


She is Walking Death

by Better_On_Page



Series: She is Walking Death Universe [1]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Alexandria Safe-Zone, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempted Sexual Assault, BAMF Women, Bilingual Character(s), Canon ADHD Character, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Character of Color, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Pansexual Character, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Canon Queer Relationship, Canon is but a Mere Suggestion, Canon-Typical Violence, Coercion, Daryl Dixon deserves better, Dubious Science, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Happy Ending, Everyone is Neurodivergent and Queer, F/F, F/M, Family Loss, Hurt/Comfort, I write when I'm depressed so good luck!, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, In this house we respect Sex Workers, Just bc I'd let JDM rail me in a Denny's doesn't mean Negan gets a pass, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Negan (Walking Dead) Being an Asshole, Negan is a Bad Guy and No One Likes Him, Not very smutty M rating is for violence cussing and deeply traumatic themes, Objectification, Out of Character, Physical Abuse, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Racism, Recreational Drug Use, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Sexual Assault, Slow Build, Slow Burn, The Hilltop (Walking Dead), The Kingdom (Walking Dead), The Sanctuary (Walking Dead), There are Several People who live, Torture, Women Being Awesome, You can call my OC a Mary Sue but you'd be boring, fatphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:34:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 60
Words: 176,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Better_On_Page/pseuds/Better_On_Page
Summary: Lupe and her baby sister Alma have weathered the Apocalypse in the only way they know how: together. They scavenge. They hunt. They find water. They survive. It's a rote existence at the world's end, but they make due for several years. That's no real surprise, it's been just the two of them since long before the dead started walking. Lupe thinks they've survived just about everything at this point. She's painfully wrong, but it takes her far too long to see it. The dead have never been the biggest threat to the sisters' survival. It's the living.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to my story. I used this little ditty to help me through some writers block for my own work and my endless depression as the world around us starts to implode. I hope you enjoy it and if you don't that's cool too.
> 
> The main characters are Mexican-American and Bilingual. Their Spanish has a lot of slang in it that's regional to Mexico where their parents are from. I've added translations inline. Hover over the word and it'll tell you what is being said! Gonna work on adding that in everywhere so it may take time. However I just discovered this doesn’t work on mobile. And even some of the alphabet gets distorted -_- so I’m gonna try to fix that shit eventually. Please let me know if you need a specific translation.
> 
> Please pay careful attention to the content warnings as there are traumatic themes through the story. If anyone wants specific CW on each chapter as a heads up, LMK and I'll add those too. If you have any questions, I am happy to answer. Leave comments, as I am in desperate need of attention.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Guadalupe Abril had done her best in her thirty or so years of life. Not that it amounted to much with the way the world turned out. All that money she hoarded to pave the way for her little sister’s success meant absolutely nothing when freshly risen corpses started walking around and eating people.  
  
She’d never exactly been enthusiastic about her given options. The universe offered Lupe a quick and relatively painful lesson, but she learned it well a long time ago. Die or kill. Since she flat out refused to die on her sister, nor let her precious ass die, Lupe’s decision was kill. It wasn’t stop, slow, or negotiate, it was kill. She never let it take two steps if it could take one. Her sister never shied away from the necessity either. Though the elder did her best to suffice so she wouldn’t need to.  
  
“¡Anda A Cagar!”snaps Alma, the previously mentioned sister, twelve years Lupe’s junior. “Can you be any louder right now?”

Lupe rolls her eyes and steps more carefully as they navigate the forest surrounding what used to be Waldorf, Virginia. They’d steadily trekked all around these southern parts, having started near Manassas. They traveled smart after so long on the road together, their movements limited to dawn and dusk. A time when lights weren’t required, but it’s generally too inconvenient for most people keeping their activity to daylight hours.

During their meandering survival trip, they ride in their dad’s mid-nineties forest green truck. It’s the only thing they both know how to keep going, scavenging parts and gas along the way. They find camouflage in the forest since the old clunker literally blended the hell right in. They often left it hidden while they camped, scoping out an area for supplies and safety, hanging out for a while, then moving on. They sleep on the bench seats together in the cab. They would sleep in the trunk with the camper cover, but they usually kept that for supplies and it was generally pretty full. There is the added benefit of being immediately available for quick get aways. That’s basically a bi-weekly occurrence in the apocalypse.

Alma and Lupe are out for a jaunty stroll after finding a decent spot to camp at dawn. Hunting through the thick woods, Alma spots what might have been deer tracks. She looks back at her sister with a big grin and says, “You ever had venison?”

Lupe frowns at Alma first, then glances out thoughtfully at the woods around her. “I mean maybe on one of my fancy work nights in D.C. but I can’t fucking remember. Why? You finally catch the trail, pequeñita?”

Alma smiles a wicked grin. “I might have, gordita.”

Lupe rolls her eyes. “Mira wey, that’s a bullshit nickname and you know I don’t like it. At least yours is cute and sweet.”

Huffing petulantly, Alma rolls her eyes in response, but there is affection somewhere in her dark brown depths. She flips a long black braid over her shoulder and steadies a .308 bolt action rifle and silencer on the other. “Yeah, I found the trail.”

“Okay…” Lupe clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Qué vamos a hacer con a fucking deer though?”

Alma turns back fast, already scowling. “It ain’t gonna matter cause you’re so fucking loud you’re gonna scare the deer away!”

Lupe growls, “You ever skinned a deer? How we gonna treat the meat? How we gonna store the meat?” That shut Alma up. Lupe smiles at her tightly. “As I recall, we’ve been mostly surviving off of scavenging supplies, fish, and fowl. Neither of us wanted to dare eating a rodent, so we’ve never dealt with fur and skin!”

Alma scowls further at the surrounding forest, her thick brows almost meeting the tops of her round cheeks. She grumbles, “Pinche pendeja…”

“I heard that bitch…” Lupe replies in sing song, pointer finger to her ear like Christina Aguilera.

Alma snorts and finally loses her concentration on the woods. “We’re never gonna find that fucking thing anyway.”

Lupe laughs. “Fuck it, we got refried beans and shit. Plus we got masa and water, I can make those wannabe tortillas again.”

Alma sighed, long and wistful. “I really wanted to bag a damn deer.”

“Querida,” Lupe pontificates with a hand at her chest and another raised with two fingers, looking like holy painting, “we wouldn’t know what the hell to do with it.” Her arms flap to her sides. “Maybe we can find some shit on it in the next town we pass, but let’s just head back to camp. I wanna prep some extra water.”

“Water, water, water. We have gallons in the back,” Alma complains as she falls into step next to her sister.

“Stay hydrated, even in the apocalypse.” Lupe reaches for her canteen and hands it off to Alma. “Especially in the apocalypse! You see a goddamn pimple anywhere on this face, pajera?”

Alma rolls her eyes, but accepts the water with a little laugh. After her long sip, she asks, “So, medicine is good. Food is good. Water is good. Hows the bag-o-bullets?” She handed it back to her sister and Lupe drank quickly.

“Still baggy with bullets.” Lupe grins and Alma punches her in the arm, making her water slosh. They make their way back to their little camp, bickering endlessly about the water; and sometimes wether the rifle or the shot gun was more fun to shoot.

They hadn’t reached a consensus. Even as they started in on washing their laundry and hanging it up to dry, they still couldn’t agree on nearly anything. Once they had their packs empty, Alma started in on arranging stuff for lunch while Lupe headed towards the nearby stream on the map and started filling up the five gallon jug. She’d purify it in increments through the day while they started in on their chores for completing their camp. They’d set a perimeter with traps and clear out any dead in the surrounding mile in the process, using hidden corpses to mask their smell. They’d gotten a good amount of their shit done quick, checking inventory and rationing for the day too. They weren’t running low on anything yet, but it paid to be vigilant.

Lupe shoulders the giant bottle and starts back to camp. She isn’t minding the mild sun of the day. Summer is coming and looking to be particularly miserable, just humid as hell with a baking heat. The air is starting to have the consistency of being stuffed in a crockpot of butter most days. Today though, things seemed to be quite serene.

It should have been the first sign that something was amiss. It never takes the universe very long to remember it hadn’t fucked Lupe over in a while. The second sign was the voices rustling on top of the leaves. The laughing.

Lupe just about dies on the spot when she hears Alma scream at the top of her lungs. She starts sprinting through the forest, dodging trees and skipping over roots. Nothing was going to stop her from getting to her sister. They both agreed that they’d scream when they were in danger. Not only would it be an easy to signal one another, but it might draw walkers. Sometimes, walkers could be useful. Especially when traipsing upon unsuspecting attackers and allowing an opportunity for escape. The thought only made Lupe run faster.

Lupe sees the trucks in the clearing first, peaking through the trees with their blues, blacks, and whites. Next she sees the men, dressed in black, like stretching shadows, stomping through her and her sister’s shared space and turning their camp inside out. The last thing she sees is her sister, a back drop of black metal and canvas behind her. One of the men grasps her arm. Licking his lips, he holds her out, leering and shaking her like a trophy.

Lupe didn’t stop her momentum despite the water bottle still weighing heavily on her shoulder. As she runs into the clearing, she plants her feet with a twist of her waist and hurls the heavy plastic jug with a hammer throw. The small group of four leather clad men gathered was her target. Feet up on a log, they congregated around hanging clothing, snickering at the girls’ underwear. It hits the tree next to them with a loud crackling explosion of plastic and water. She doesn’t stop. She doesn’t even miss a step with her spinning momentum as she turns back to her goal. She doesn’t care about the roaring confusion and men tripping over themselves. She has to incapacitate them. She needs to kill them. It doesn’t matter how. She won’t stop until each and every one of them were dead. Before that, she has to get Alma to safety.

Without a sound, Lupe tackles the man holding Alma, right into the reinforced-steel sided truck. She had jumped at the last second, sending her momentum sideways and down. With the extreme force, their attacker’s head hit at the desired angle, snapping his neck instantly. She stumbles off of the falling corpse and turns. Alma had grabbed the rifle the man had taken from her, she hands off his assault rifle to Lupe. The men she hit with the water bottle are scrambling and cursing as they get to their feet, sopping wet in every single way. Lupe unloads some bullets in their direction, but she isn’t immediately used to the gun. It takes a second for her aim to right. She manages to hit two of them, one in the side and one in the leg, right before they fall behind trees.

An eruption of bullets comes from behind them. Lupe hisses at her inattention, thinking these men would be alone. The sisters might need to abandon their camp. Luckily, it doesn’t look like these assholes had figured out the rocky formation they camped by had one too many moss covered boulders. Her and Alma could still reach the car and get out.

Alma fires back several shots as Lupe covers her in the other direction. They tuck underneath the giant black truck, hiding behind wheels that the intruders probably won’t want shot out.

“¿Puedes llegar a camión?” Lupe asks quickly.

Alma looks around, careful and calm. “No se. Veo cuatro mas. They’re hiding in the trees and I can’t get a clean —,” the huff of her rifle firing interrupts her sentence, “scratch that, one more down. Three I can see over here.”

“Four on mine, but I think I injured two of them. Looking at the ground it seems they bled a lot.” Lupe holds her aim, waiting for one of the men to peek out. A pale balding head shines in the sun so she fires off a shot. It pings off the tree, but it hits right at the edge of the bark next to his head. The tree splinters right into his face. Lupe grins. “Three shooting on my side, but I’ll run out ammo soon. Llegar a camión, y yo —,”

Gun shots pepper the ground between them, thundering beneath the undercarriage and squealing off metal. The sisters curve further under the truck’s wheels.

“Shit!” Alma curses.

“You hit?” A broiling panic starts to consume Lupe when Alma doesn’t reply automatically. She fires back at the gunman hiding behind a log and hits him square through the eye not on his scope. Probably more than a lucky shot, but it doesn’t matter if luck keeps them alive.

“Not hit. These fuckers came out of nowhere! I’m just fucking pissed and scared.” Alma admits and it isn’t shameful. They’re often too honest with each other in these moments, but it helps.

“Me too. ¿¡Que chingadas?! Right?” She keeps firing to keep the shadows at bay. “Fuck it, get to the car and get the hell out of here. I’m gonna hold them off and I’ll meet you at the last place, yeah?” They exchange a nervous look. Something they shared too many times before in situations similar to these, with people who didn’t deserve to survive. That’s why Lupe would stay behind. She’d make sure none of them could follow. “I’ll cover you and I’ll find you. ¡Prometo!”

They nod once and immediately assume their positions. Lupe exhales tightly to try and control the terror taking over her body. She hated leaving her sister, but they can’t risk a chase and more firefight. She has to end it. She fires at the men behind the trees near their laundry, to get them ducking. Thankfully, she cleared the back way after nailing the one behind the log. The others hiding in the forest would be blocked by the vehicle and wouldn’t be able to see Alma running.

Lupe continues to fire until she runs out of bullets, but she never hears the car start. She keeps a hold on her gun and scrambles under the truck to the other side. Jumping up she sprints away, ignoring the men shouting behind the trees. She rounds the corner where their car is parked and slides to a stop. Her chest heaves and her entire body runs cold at the sight of the three men that were supposed to be on the other side of the truck. Her and Alma had been flanked. One of them has a hold on her little sister, who is stone faced and silent, despite the gun aimed lazily in her direction.

“NO!” Lupe screams and it shocks the men in front of her so much that they all jolt. It gives Alma the opportunity to duck and kick out the knees of the one holding her. Lupe launches her empty gun right at the one on the other side of Alma. The butt end expertly hits the guy right in the face and he crumples like his strings were cut. Lupe tackles the next one in the following movement and punches until he stops struggling. Getting to her feet, she grabs Alma, who just incapacitated the other one with a CIF match winning kick right into his crotch.

Lupe pulls her away just as she hears the sound of guns cocking behind them. She turns slowly, keeping Alma behind her as she takes in her surroundings. Three men lay at her feet, unconscious or writhing in disjointed agony. At least three other men had been killed in the firefight. One or two might be bleeding out somewhere, but there are five more in front of her. All holding high powered rifles aimed directly at her and Alma.

“Carajo…” Lupe hisses. Two from the water bottle group stumble over and aim slippery weapons at them as well. She didn’t have enough time to take a proper assessment. She didn’t realize so many of these fuckers would come out of the woods. “Lo siento hermana,” she whispers over her shoulder.

“¡Cállate!” Alma hisses back. Her hands grip at the back of Lupe’s shirt. “Te quiero.”

“Put your hands up and back away from the other girl!” says a man with a hideous brown mustache that must have usurped some hair from atop his balding head. Lupe and Alma just hold onto each other tighter, refusing to listen. This obviously riles the pale, beady eyed man. Covered in sweat, water, bark, and blood, he bellows, “Let go of her and step away!”

Lupe almost lunged. She eyes his water logged weapon and contemplates her chances. She glares around at the group, all looking slightly worse for wear. She might be able to do this if she can manage to rattle them enough. She can split up from Alma, lead them away, and kill them in the forest. Alma can get their car and disable all the others before escaping.

Lupe’s reply comes out just as fierce, “¡Me cago en tu madre! The only way I’m letting go of her is if you shoot me in the head! So you better not miss you mustachioed bitch!”

All of the guns waver for just a second at her reply. There might have been a snicker. Lupe is just about to make her move when she suddenly hears…

Clapping.


	2. Chapter 2

A tall, lithe figure comes sauntering around the back of the black truck, his leather clad hands snapping against each other in the stillness of the forest. His long legs carry him leisurely over to the group as he continues to slowly and steadily clap. Lupe is already well under impressed with their display. These men all dress like Mad Max rejects and look just about as genial. She doesn’t want them around her sister or herself.

He finally turns to face Lupe and Alma directly, and they both took a knowing step back. He has dark, slicked black hair, peppered with grays at the side, pale skin gone tan and almost leathery, with a salt and pepper scruff along his sharp jaw. They know exactly the type of man he is on sight. He got everything he wanted and hurt people to get it. It made the sisters wary, but no less sure of themselves. They so readily recognize the narcissism in the smile, eyes, and swagger, because they’d seen them all too many times before. Those cocky eyes all faded to a milky white eventually. The sisters look forward to adding his to their count.

He takes them in judiciously, eyes roving up and down, and taking his time. Alma is only seventeen, but she is tall and shapely like their abuelita on their father’s side. Lupe is short and squat like her mama, but it doesn’t stop her from adjusting to block the stare. Both have dark black hair like their parents, skin the color of the desert sands after a rain, and fierce brown eyes in their rounded faces. All of which they directed purposefully at the man while took his fill. He focuses on Lupe who doesn’t hold back her glare.

“Now what do we have here?” His voice is fine whiskey and cigarettes, like that douche bag Don Draper.

Mustachioed bitch steps forward, his voice a snarl, but shaking, “Found these girls in the woods. That fat one killed Tom, rammed him right into the truck without making a goddamn sound and snapped his neck. We didn’t even see her comin’!”

Lupe carefully watches and absorbs the interaction, ignoring the dig for what it is: male insecurity and fatphobia. It is glaringly obvious that the leather clad Douche Draper is the head of this jolly band of misfits. Mustachioed Bitch is someone he cares to talk to. Her and Alma killed not only Tom, but a couple others too. Lupe doesn’t smile, but their distress does bring a little warmth back into her heart.

The Big Boss sends an odd look of disappointment towards the two sisters. Almost sympathetic if it didn’t stretch so uncomfortably on his features. It looks laid unevenly over something else beneath it. Lupe and Alma are sure it’s a bleak nothing, just an endless consuming shadow.

He speaks, “I’m Negan and this Mustachioed Bitch to my right is Simon. You two seem to have scared the pants right off him.” His grin is too wide. “Luckily, I got my own girl to protect me. So forgive me if I’m not quaking in my boots, even after that magnificent slaughter you just committed.”

Negan gives an empty chuckle that echoes through his line of men. The two sisters do not respond.

He clears his throat and leans towards them with an almost genial smile. “Names?”

The sisters don’t flinch or move, they just wait silently. Lupe just needs a chance and Alma wants to be ready.

“Negan, off with the kids gloves, they’re killers!” Simon snarls.

Negan turns and the smile wipes right off his face as he glares at Simon. They hold the glare, one deadly and one wild, respectively. It takes a few seconds, but Simon sews something unhinged back up inside that human suit he’s wearing. Stomping back off to the firing line, he mutters curses under his breath. Negan huffs through a half smile and turns back to Lupe and Alma.

“Now then…” Negan starts, loping towards them casually. The thing slung in the crook of his elbow is a classic wooden Louisville Slugger with the entire barrel wrapped in gnarled barbed wire. It’s clean as he shoulders it, and that makes Lupe even less impressed.

He notices her stare and smiles, eyes going wide. “Oh, you must excuse me!” he jeers. “I am just one rude asshole, I didn’t even introduce you!” He unshoulders the bat and taps the end in his opposite hand. “You like her? That’s my girl!” He takes a full, fast swing. The bat buzzes as wind whips through the threaded metal.

“This here is Lucille. My pride and joy.” He kisses the tip of the bat. “Normally, killing my men means a pretty intimate session with my girl here, for all of the participating parties. See, she doesn’t like murderers in my territory.” He stands in front of Lupe with the bat back on his shoulder. “And you? Oh,” he groans, bowing his body with the sound, “I think Lucille wants to intimately know each and every inch.”

Lupe frowns further. With so much equipment and so many men, she and Alma should have found a camp nearby. There weren’t any farms, residential or business buildings in the surrounding ten or so miles. She doesn’t think their base is nearby. The way he speaks is the biggest insult and red flag. Her, her sister, and the people they’ve harmed before are all negligent to this Negan’s ego. The earth they tread is spoken of like a trinket, something pathetic enough for him to possess. Something familiarly colonizing shines in the bottomless hazel depth of his gaze, it is soulless and cruel.

“Thing is, I don’t like harming women, and I don’t like when my men do it —,”

Negan is interrupted by Lupe’s derisive snort.

He glares at her for just half a second before trying to resume his ploy. “Now since this entire scene puts me in a difficult position,” his voice hits an aggressive bark, but he does not see them flinch, which only starts to irritate him further, “I’d like to ask for your names and an explanation. Before I get upset and decide it’s wiser to break both of your legs and leave you to die.”

Lupe stands her ground. She stays coldly silent and unaffected, other than annoyed. She almost wants to smile at him, to show him she doesn’t care if he does such a thing. They’d survive. It didn’t matter how. She would always make sure they survived. Alma, still curling at her back, grips her shirt tighter.

“Names!” Negan finally roars, but the two girls still do not flinch.

“I’m Nita,” Alma says shakily, giving the childhood nickname of her other nickname, because Mexicans can’t stop themselves. “This is Dita,” she supplies a distortion of the name Lupe hates. Lupe doesn’t care so much. She never planned on telling them their names, real or fake. She reaches back to grip Alma’s arm, hoping that she knows what she’s doing. Lupe has to trust Alma. She is just as smart, or maybe smarter. They need each other for balance and survival. They have to trust each other or there’s no getting out of this alive.

“Nita and Dita…” Negan drags his tongue against his smiling teeth.

Lupe snarls, “Keep your old ass fucking eyes off her, she’s a kid.”

“Don’t look like one…” one of the nameless men snorts along the firing line.

Lupe lunges forward. “Well she is!” she growls, hovering somewhere near rabidly. “¡Hijo de mierda! It doesn’t matter what your sick fucking mind thinks about it! Keep it to yourself, you rotting piece of garbage!” Alma holds her back by the belt loop.

Negan outright laughs at her response. He looks back at his man and smiles. “She sure the fuck told you.” He turns back to Lupe. “Apologies then, I tend to be a mite bit more voracious than the standard man, if you catch my fucking drift. My men seem to follow suit. It’s not often we cross paths with women such as yourselves.”

“What? That can shoot your pathetic asses? Maybe the first thought all you have about something shouldn’t be wether you can fuck it.” Lupe smiles grimly. “Might wake up on the wrong side of a blender.”

Negan laughs again, swinging the bat off his shoulder and pointing it right at Lupe. “Dita, I like your fire. Now explain to me why you and Nita killed so many of my men.”

Lupe doesn’t say a word, but Alma pulls on her shirt, edging her on. She sighs and tried her best to remain calm. “First fucker got handsy with her and gave her the wrong type of look. The rest were just reactionary to our justifiable self-defense.”

Negan grins. “That’s stone cold. You killed my man for a look?” His tone reaches the height of incredulity.

“I did,” Lupe snaps and Alma fists her fingers in the shirt at her back, twitchy with anxiety.

“Elucidate then for me Dita,” Negan’s tone goes hard and cold, but there’s an edge of interest peaking through, “what could you possibly have seen in one teensy little look?”

Both of the sisters know what one teensy little look can mean. Growing up brown and Latinx, it was common to receive sexual threats, especially from adults. Instead of being seen as a child, they were a buxom stereotype or a spicy caricature, just there for entertainment and consumption. The look is why her sister screamed when she did. She knows.

Lupe concentrates on Negan’s gait as he gets closer, armed with just the bat and a large buck knife at his waist. The group behind him has all their guns trained on the sisters, but Lupe can’t tell if any of them are worth their shot. These men weren’t stealing out of desperation or begging for help. They walked right up into their space as if it were their own, immediately threatening the sisters’ safety. These men are a menace to be eliminated.

Lupe can’t help her eyes flitting around the space as Negan draws closer, his bat inching towards her and her sister. Alma grips the shirt at Lupe’s back with a shaking hand, an infantile habit her burgeoning adulthood could never erase. Something roiling in Lupe’s veins screams for safety, for wide open spaces and isolation. His grip isn’t overly tight around the hard wooden handle. If he get near enough to Lupe in this state, the bat won’t help him at all. But she doesn’t want him anywhere close to either of them.

"It’s the kind of look that hurts kids,” Lupe spits at him and he freezes, just as she’d hoped. “I got plenty of those looks growing up, so I’ve got the experience as to what follows,” she snarls grimly. Her words are laced with disdain as she continues, “Would you let your men look at you like that?” She stares straight into him, forcing him to confront it. Her face twists in disgust. “Have you been letting him give those looks to kids back at your camp? Is that the way you run your shit?” Her scowl is fierce and serious. “I’d be happy to find a way to snap each and every one of your fucking necks, if that’s the case.”

Negan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They are sharply assessing, narrowed and ravenous. Lupe doesn’t want to tangle with any of them if she doesn’t have to, not immediately. She does want to throw him off his game. He seems like the type that yearns for control, obsessed with possession. She would rather die than give him the satisfaction of her fear.

He laughs again and replies, “How do think you’ll manage to accomplish that, hm?” He leans forward, his tone pedantic, “You seem new to the area, suspiciously unafraid and unfamiliar of myself and my men, so let me clarify something for you.”

He lunges closer and the barbed wire bat points right at Lupe’s nose, forcing her head back at an uncomfortable angle. Her face stretches and her eyes widen, and Negan drinks in the blankness of her stare. “I’m King Shit in these parts. Everything you see belongs to me. Everything you have now belongs to me. I’ve got the guns and the cock to subdue every living or dead thing for the next fifty miles. You’re now property of Negan and the Saviors. So I need to you shut that beautiful mouth of yours. You may have balls, but it’s my dick that gets wet. And I always find a way to get my dick wet.”

Lupe’s chin quivers and Negan had a heart beat of pure, unadulterated triumph. It is immediately crushed when she sputters right in his face. She laughs uproariously as she flails backwards, her voice ringing in the dead silence. She pushes her sister back as if to ask for space, really, getting her farther from Negan. Bent over at the waist, hands on her knees, Lupe keeps laughing, a bright and trilling sound that fills the forest with some Disney shit type of glee.

“You —!” Lupe tries, but can’t stop laughing. All of the men with guns are starting to look just as confused as Negan. “Oh! Oh!” She laughs and slaps her thigh, huffing for a breath. “Stop! Stop!”

Her face twists with a delighted incredulity. “You — you actually —?” she swallows and huffs with a smile, “— You actually think you’re the first group of men out here,” she circles her arms at the empty space around them with a patronizing grin, “at the end of the world, who’s tried this?” She guffaws loudly.

Her smile quirks with something bleak, but she sounds no less incensed, “The first to threaten us with your shitty firing stances and pathetic, unwashed swamp crotch? Hard fucking pass, my dude.” She smiles and stands right back up again, arms open wide. “Go ahead…” The smile drops instantly. She stares at Negan, boring into him. Stone faced, and without any lingering wisp of doubt, she orders, “Try me.”

Negan allows the fading grin on his lips to bloom again. That little one is impressive and even manages to rattle his cage for a moment. The grin felt strong until he looks over at the taller one. She just stands there behind her sister, waiting. She isn’t shaking. She isn’t visibly scared. In fact, before she looked down at her sister’s boots, Negan could have sworn she was grinning. Something chills him at the thought.

“Quit staring at her before I give your men an opportunity for career advancement,” Lupe snarls and Negan tears his eyes away from the younger one.

He glares at Lupe, finally getting sick of her shit. “What do you think you’ll do?” He storms forward again and catches her before she can step back, too distracted with pushing the girl farther away. He snags Lupe’s chin with the barbed wire tip of his bat, lugging her forward and tilting her head up. “Hm?” he growls deep in his throat, dragging it out until it rumbles all the way through to the tip of his bat. Rage building, he roars, “What could your insignificant little ass do?!”

Lupe rips her chin away from his bat’s burning hold, leaving deep scratches along her skin that start dripping blood down her neck. She didn’t even flinch. She didn’t make a sound. In the instant of shock still reigning on Negan’s face, she slaps his bat away and it flies to the forest floor. Stepping closer makes it harder for him to strike her with his long noodle ass appendages. Luckily, she’s too short for the head butt she’d see coming from miles anyway. She stands close enough that if anyone shoots at her, they definitely risk hitting Negan.

Lupe leans in close to Negan and her tone is soft as silk, “I’ll destroy you.” She gazes up into his eyes meaningfully, her tone leisurely, “I don’t care how long it takes, or how I have to do it, but I will.” She tugs him closer by the belt. His knife is already in her hands, with the tip pressing into his gut. Her eyes flare and the brown in them comes alive, like a pack of wolves leaping to the chase. Her words are sharp and perfectly clear, “She’s safe or no one is.” Lupe pulls her hand back and starts the plunge.

Negan smiles in the split second it takes for Alma to shout as Lupe is tackled. She writhes on the ground as more men pile on, starting to punch and kick her. She grabs legs and arms, scratching, biting, and pounding on joints and groins if she can reach them. The men attempt to wrangle her, but she moves like swords getting shoved in a garbage disposal. Her ferocity is whipping up a storm of rage and frustration.

Grinning, Negan just watches on. He likes her. She has an undeniable fire that he wants to contain and mould. Both finds will be valuable assets if he can manage to get their homicidal asses in the truck. It’d been a boring year so far. He could use a distraction from the burgeoning summer heat.

Negan turns and finds himself with the worst end of a gun leveled at his face. His smile drops as he glares down the black barrel into the eyes of Alma.

She’s steady, not wavering a single inch. The young girl’s eyes light up much like the older one’s did, and he has a mighty strong suspicion. “Tell them to let her go or I’ll shoot you,” she snarls

“Darlin’ —,”

“You’re men started this!” Alma screams, maintaining her aim perfectly. Her voice goes hard and cold, she doesn’t even blink, “Let her go and we will come willingly, as long as you promise not to hurt us. If you really mean that your men won’t harm women, that you’re truly Saviors, we’ll come.”

“No!” Lupe howls. She gets a hold of someone’s knife and jabs it into the closest thigh she can reach before she gets slapped. She manages to get her teeth around her assailant’s first knuckle when he tries again.

“Now!” Alma shrieks at Negan.

Negan is entranced by the way Lupe’s teeth sink into that Savior’s skin. It hasn’t mattered how hard they punch her in the head, she’s refusing to let go. Because of his distraction, Alma turns sharply and lets off a shot. It hits another one of Negan’s men in the shoulder, a bit too close to the heart, and he topples to the side. Lupe starts thrashing harder against less hands. Negan whirls back to the younger sister.

Alma growls, “Let her go now or I’ll kill every single one of you!”

In the hush of the moment after her words, Negan knows she isn’t lying. He knows it’s not just the older one that needs to be watched out for. “Back off!” Negan shouts and the commotion almost stops, aside from Lupe’s frantic snarling. “They’re coming back to the Sanctuary willingly.” Negan smiles and nods at Alma.

The men all scramble off of Lupe who is still trying to get her last hits in. Alma throws her rifle at Negan’s feet in a huff and storms over to her sister. They wrap each other up in the tightest hug they can manage.

“¿Por que?” Lupe snarls as her sister helps her to her feet. It’s more out of pain than anger. “¿Porque vamos con ellos?”

“Porque nuestro camión está oculto. Sólo porque vayamos, no significa que tengamos que quedarnos,” Alma replies as they limp past the group of men tending to their own. They throw some glares at the two sisters as they stumble towards the large black truck.

“Ay,” Lupe replies with a pained grunt, “pero, no sabemos nada de ellos, ni a dónde nos llevan.”

“Quizás. Pero tienen armas y gentes. Necesitamos tener cuidado,” Alma shoots back as they continue.

“What are you two chatting about, hm?” Negan sidles up next to them as they approach mid truck.

“We’re reassuring each other,” Lupe replies through grit teeth.

“We’re scared,” Alma adds in an expertly shaky tone.

They get stopped on their journey by Tom rising from the dead. He pops right up like a stepped on daisy. The bend in his neck is at a near ninety degree angle and his head bobbles to the side. He groans and hisses like all the dead do, reaching out for the group of three, flanked by Saviors.

Negan sighs and raises his bat, readying to swing, but he never gets to follow through. The older one moves the younger back and does a full swing kick, knocking the undead’s face right up into the metal undercarriage’s sharp edge. There’s a loud crack as the fresh skull splinters, the tiniest of squelches as the head dislodges, and the body drops with a thud.

Negan’s voice is a soft huff of laughter and a deep well of doubt, “Don’t look so scared.”

Lupe sends him a burning glare and takes a threatening limp towards him. “Forgive me if I’m not quaking in my fucking boots.”

Alma scrambles right back under her sister’s arm and holds her tight as she forces Lupe through the rest of the journey to the back of the truck. Alma jumps inside first, reaching up to grasp the top of the truck as she extends an arm for her sister. Lupe grabs her at the wrist and hefts herself up, but pauses halfway when she realizes Negan’s hand is on her waist. She whirls around with her free hand, smacking his touch away instantly. Grabbing onto Negan’s lapel, she yanks him up onto his tiptoes as she hangs from the trusted and undeniable strength of her sister’s grasp.

“Keep your men away from me and my sister,” Lupe bites out with utmost venom before shoving him back.

It’s hard enough Negan actually has to place a foot down behind him to make sure he didn’t rock back too far. He grins a little too intently as the two shuffle to the back, where the bench seats are. Deep into those shadows where he does his absolute best work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Lmere


	3. Chapter 3

It takes almost a week for Lupe to heal enough from her beat down. She carries a little bit of pride because a few more of Negan’s men succumb to their injuries from the firefight. Her and Alma are stuck at the Sanctuary, which is just a continual shit bag of mixed blessings. It’s nice to have their own space, even if it’s small. People still remain to be Too Much™. It’s interesting to be behind walls. The groans coming from The Moat of the Dead are more of a buzzing background noise, the new construction work or landscaping of the world’s end. The men that wear leather walk around like they own the place. The sisters aren’t allowed outside. It’s functionally a prison, and a fucking hideous one too.  
  
The place runs efficiently, but unethically. Negan requires people to work in order to gain points. The points can then be used in exchange for services or goods, but everything cost so much. Most tasks are grueling and allot a meager amount of points to the laborer, aside from very few positions. The Saviors can just take whatever they please. It doesn’t matter who used their points for it. They can just steal it. Even without physical money or gold bars, people are still capitalist pigs.  
  
Everything about being there unsettles Lupe. From its endless neutral paint tones, to each individual piece of rock that makes up the gravel outside, to the tiny room her and her sister share. Bleakness seeps from the walls, crying out for mercy. Lupe wants to be back in the forest with Alma, where it used to be safe. Before people started calling land, territory and people, their possessions, again.  
  
Lupe’s assigned job has her stuck in janitorial; not knowing what that meant for her, but definitely not optimistic. She knows she already caused too many problems for Negan to allow any of this to be easy on her. She hopes Alma will at least be spared his pettiness. Lupe’s mostly just anxious because her baby sister will be working in the laundry. It means they’ll spend a lot of time apart in a place, not only strange, but far too dangerous.  
  
Lupe is still a little stiff as she walks Alma down to the lower levels. They find their destination in a big horribly beige room where industrial washers line the walls. Lupe can’t be sure what the hell this place was prior to all the undead cannibalism, but she is positive she hates every inch of it. It is especially hot and stuffy in the laundry room. She can’t believe they can’t find a few goddamn fans at the end of the world.  
  
Alma’s surprised to see only three old women lining long tables and sorting clothing. She glances at Lupe who glances back, blinking at each other in confusion. They wonder why Douche Draper set all this space and work for just these three little ladies. The door bangs shut behind them and all the old crones look up together, their eyes squinting in annoyance.  
  
“Sorry,” Lupe begins with a timid smile. “I’m Dita and this is Nita. She’s starting today in laundry.” Alma waves with a beaming smile.  
  
One of the older women with pale golden skin comes forward. Her white hair is tucked under a backwards cap and she’s in a loose, canvas looking dress. “Welcome you two. Always nice to have some fresh faces around here. Real sad after Edith died and left us in the lurch.” She sighs distractedly and extends a wrinkled hand. “I’m Huang and that’s Dolores and Marigold.” They exchange handshakes and smiles.  
  
“Happy to be here,” Alma replies like she just got elected to ASB.  
  
Huang barks out a laugh. Her tone goes derisive, but not towards them, “Aren’t we just fucking all?” They all share some laughter. Alma and Lupe’s is slightly more leery than the others.  
  
“Don’t you worry none sugar,” Dolores says, rubbing a hand over her cropped silvery coils. She smiles brightly at Lupe, obviously the most distressed.  
  
Lupe worries all the time about everything. She’s currently doing her best to wash out all the ways the room could be used to her and her sister’s advantage. Clothes for strangling. Dryer doors to bash in heads. Detergent to throw in eyes or shove down someone’s throat. Flashes of bodies and blood invade Lupe’s mind and she can’t stop it. She never could. It’s just as wholly consuming as the fear over leaving her sister with these strangers, benign as they may appear.  
  
Dolores comforts her, “We’ll watch out for her.” She shifts slightly on her chair behind the table and her sable hand pulls out a crowbar from underneath. “We may be old, but we ain’t dead. I’ve never lived my life letting kids get hurt, I ain’t about to start now.” She put the crow bar back in its place and looks up at the two young women again. “No one ever comes back here much anyway, they all just use the chutes for their bags and we do the rest.”  
  
Lupe scowls at that.  
  
Marigold interjects, her high voice is nearly whisper soft, “It’s actually kind of nice to not to have to interact with the rest of them.”  
  
Alma sighs. “Is everyone so bad?”  
  
Huang shakes her head as she waves for Alma to follow. “No, not everyone. Most of the workers are alright, scared, but alright. There are some occasional power trips and drama. Kind of common when you’ve got people wrangled in like cattle. The Saviors are 99% assholes though.”  
  
“Steer clear of them if you can,” Dolores adds. “You do what they say, when they say it. They’re allowed to beat on us or throw us in the cells if we don’t comply.” She looks at the sisters seriously. “Negan never tells no one that, but he doesn’t stop it either.”  
  
“¿Que chingadas?” Alma mutters and looks over at Lupe.  
  
Lupe sighs heavily, taking in this worthwhile information. They have to figure out a weakness to this place so they can take advantage of it. They have to escape. She is pretty sure these three women are genuine. She doesn’t have much else to go on except for their derision for Negan and the Saviors. A common thread the sisters are discovering that weaves through the complex. At least that meant less people will be on their asses during the general day to day.  
  
Lupe nods tightly, but smiles. “We’ll do our best.”  
  
“That’s all we can hope for!” Marigold beams, her voice like a breeze. Her hair is corn cob yellow and her pale white skin was somehow excessively powdery, even in the humidity of the laundry room.  
  
Lupe hugs her sister tightly, whispering in her ear, “¿Si hay una problema? Corres. Rápido. No te pares. Te encontraro. ¿Bueno?”  
  
Alma nods into her shoulder and squeezes her tight. “Si, vieja tonto, I will.”  
  
They pull back from the hug, but don’t really have the heart to let go. Stepping back, they hold onto each others’ arms for dear life. Lupe nods. “Be brave, okay? I’ll see you for lunch or dinner or something.”  
  
“We’ll keep her with us!” Huang replies as she begins folding clothes.  
  
“This place can be a maze, so we’ll make sure she gets around safe.” Dolores nods.  
  
“We sometimes play rummy or spades after work too, in case you don’t see us and get nervous,” Marigold adds.  
  
Lupe lets go and Alma walks over to the table, taking off her jacket as she sits down next to Dolores who pats her shoulder as a welcome.  
  
“Thank you,” Lupe says sharply, unintentionally putting too much into the words. Her sister is the most important thing in her life. If she wasn’t safe, Lupe didn’t know what she would do. She hopes she can trust this space, to trust some of its people someday. But she truly hates it here.  
  
“Of course sugar.” Dolores squeezes Alma’s hands. “We’ll take good care of her.”  
  
As they start explaining and chatting with Alma, Lupe does her best to leave without bursting into frantic tears. She walks down the hallway, heading towards Janitorial which is somewhere at the bottom of this bleak dungeon. She has to grip the railing on the wall at her side even though she isn’t on stairs. Her knees shake too much to make walking easy. She’s thankful this old pit is weird enough to have bannisters.  
  
Reaching the end of the hallway, she is pretty sure her legs aren’t going to give out. She stops at a T intersection. She squints one way, spying an ill lit hallway, double sided with doors. In the other direction, she sees basically the exact same thing. She shrugs and spins in a circle before walking off in a random direction.  
  
About fourteen doors later, she finally finds an ancient man, sitting in a ratty computer chair from the 90s, behind a just as hideous desk. He looks so old his wrinkles have wrinkles. His face is a series of dark brown rolls with black bushy eyebrows sticking up and out in all directions. A prominent square jaw holds no teeth, but his lips clamp onto a hand rolled cigarette like his life depends on it. He stands up slowly, but his body seems pretty stable by the time he’s upright.  
  
“I’m —,” she forgets her fake name for a moment.  
  
“Dita, I heard,” he speaks out of the side of his mouth like Popeye, voice like rocks across asphalt  
  
“Nice to meet you.” She reaches out her hand. He takes it swiftly with a strong grip. She smiles at him a little more genuinely this time.  
  
“I’m Lozano,” he grunts and goes back to his chair. “Janitorial work ain’t always easy, but it's work. I can take care of my wife until we die in this casa de mierda.”  
  
“Entiendo,” she replies with a sad half grin.  
  
“Ah! Another Spanish speaker at least, ojalá eres no ratera, like the rest.” He gets back up to toddle around and continues to grumble, “They sent me a gringito last time and I almost stabbed him in the hand.”  
  
Lupe sputters and tries to sober up. Faking concern, she asks, “What happened?”  
  
“I missed,” Lozano deadpans.  
  
Lupe has to cover her mouth to keep in the roaring laughter that wants to escape. She thinks she might end up more than liking Lozano. He reminds her of her abuelo on her mother’s side. A gruff old bastard who wouldn’t share more than two words with anyone. Put him in a kitchen or get him around babies and it was nothing but song, dance, and joy. He was a hard man to like, an even harder man to get to like you back, but he had a good strong heart and loved his family more than anything.  
  
“Sorry you missed.”  
  
Lozano snorts and then looks Lupe up and down. “Dita’s not a common name I hear.”  
  
Lupe looks at him blankly. The cigarette in his mouth wobbles.  
  
“Esto es demasiado… Pinche tontos gringos,” he mumbles. “No me pagan suficiente por esta mierda. Your name even Dita?”  
  
Lupe can’t help the slight grin that twitches on her cheek.  
  
He shakes his head and smiles a toothless half smile. “Entiendo.” He flicks a finger off the side of his nose at her. “Like I said, I don’t get paid enough to care. Sólo haz tu trabajo and we’re good.”  
  
Lupe smiles fully. “Dime. What can I do, señor?” He snorts in response and waves her over. She follows dutifully, thankful she might actually get a little respite. Maybe she could mine for a little bit of peace in this little old man who is achingly familiar. She has to find some shelter from the terrorism surrounding her somehow.  
  
After several hours of following Lozano around, helping him push his cart, and getting yelled at affectionately in Spanish, her shift was over. She is sweaty and had worked hard, but it wasn’t impossible. People are in charge of cleaning up their own spaces, so her and Lozano just had to manage the public areas. They gathered garbage and wiped down tables, windows, bannisters, and doors. They went through the communal bathrooms and made sure there was nothing for maintenance to work on, and mopped the floors. They walked outside and picked up litter, swept, and placed the displaced back to rights. It was a busy, but rather boring day.  
  
Lupe’s walking back to laundry, less tight but more sore from her beating. She is almost limping, gripping the banister to support herself as she makes the trek. Upon opening the door, she’s glad to see her sister sitting with the group of old women.  
  
“I taught them poker.” Alma smiles deviously. Lupe can’t help but laugh.  
  
“She told me about strip poker too!” Marigold adds, her high voice all a flutter with exuberance.  
  
Lupe approaches the table, a pile of socks and unmentionables in the center. She eyes her sister carefully and Alma returns the stare. Lupe’s eye brow arcs and Alma finally rolls her eyes. “It’s just the extra laundry, we can’t play strip poker with just women,” she mutters.  
  
Dolores chuckles, “It’d probably be more fun actually.” All the women hoot and whistle while Dolores hides her smiling face behind her cards.  
  
Lupe sits down with them while they finished the hand and gossiped. A surprising amount of information is shared across the table. They hear about who was secretly sleeping with who. Which people on guard decided to do so inebriated. They label the racists, the violent ones, and the ones always trying to start trouble. The old ladies knew about inventory and nearby squabbles. They even got bits and pieces about something rarely discussed in public spaces: the outposts. The sisters weren’t ever big on chit chat, but it being the end of the world, there wasn’t much left to do. Some of it could be useful in the long run. And sitting with these old ladies, snickering and gossiping, it felt like a little slice of home. Their mother and her siblings loved their chisme.  
  
As the cards got packed up, the sisters help the women out of the laundry room in the basement. They are all intending on going to dinner together, but they’re stopped once they reach the top of the stairs.  
  
“¡Ay mierda!” Alma gasps, genuinely shocked.  
  
Mustachioed Bitch is standing at the top of the stairs with two other men flanking him, backlit like super villains.  
  
“You’re in the way!” Huang shouts at him. “I’m too old to stop my upwards stair momentum now!”  
  
Simon rolls his eyes and steps back to let the group pass. He grabs onto Alma’s shoulder to stop her.  
  
Lupe reacts instinctively, her hand lashing out and ripping Simon’s grip away before delivering a sharp, but relatively soft heel strike to his chin. “You don’t touch her!” she snaps in his face. The older ladies all circle around Alma while Lupe rounds Simon to be in front of them.  
  
Simon rubs his chin and smiles like something cruel and empty would. His eyes glaze over and he speaks with an alarming geniality, “Negan wants to see you two.”  
  
“You could have just said that,” Marigold whimpers tearily. “You didn’t have to grab her like a brute!”  
  
“Ma’am —,”  
  
“Ma’am!?” Marigold gasps, looking to Dolores and Huang with tears on her cheeks. “Am I matronly enough to be called ma’am?” Dolores and Huang have to hang their heads to keep from laughing. Marigold may look and sound like an airhead, but she is no slouch. She just works well with what she has.  
  
Simon has to take a deep breath, closing his eyes and clenching his jaw well after it was done. He tries smiling again. “If you’ll pardon the interruption ladies, I need to take Dita and Nita up to Negan now. He just wants to check in on’em after their first day.”  
  
“We’ll come,” Lupe replies even though Huang was about to speak. Lupe could see the shift in Simon’s eyes, reaching the limit of his irritation. Negan liked to play games and toy around with his prey. Simon seems the type to just go straight for the kill without hesitation. He probably had zero impulse control. Lupe sends him a blank look. “It’s not a problem, see?”  
  
He sighs at the old women and glares slightly at Lupe. “Come on. Let’s not keep him waiting.”  
  
“We’ll see you both tomorrow!” Marigold waves like she had a kerchief in her hand. “Dita, you’ll have to tell Lozano I said hello!” Her voice trills after them as they are escorted down the hall. It’s very hard for the sisters to keep straight faces even when flanked by assholes. The Laundry women are already earning a glowing reputation and prime position in their hearts.  
  
As they climb, it gets a little bit easier to be disgruntled. Step after step, climbing the Mount Everest of staircases, the sisters huff despite the decent shape they’re in. The men are desperately trying to act unaffected, but Lupe can see the shuddering of their chests trying to keep their breaths even, plus all that sweat on their brows. They finally reach the top and stop at a guarded set of red double doors. The sisters both glance at each other before they follow Simon through.  
  
They walk down the halls, several doors closed, with names scrawled crudely on the wood with chalk. Amber, Lisa, Tanya, Frankie, and several more doors that are unmarked. Lupe scowls heavily as they turn another corner. They find themselves at a set of tall doors made from a natural dark wood that is very, very shiny. It looks like the pre-war type, built sturdy enough to face down the big bad wolf himself. The problem is, he’s already inside.


	4. Chapter 4

  
Once they get through the second set of guarded doors, they walk into a giant study. Books line the walls in tall, hearty looking shelves. Alma and Lupe both give a restrained smile at that. The only other doors in the room sit on the completely opposite side of an ornate desk. Behind that desk sits Negan in a high backed leather chair. He has Lucille on the table and his leather jacket still on. He squeaks every time he shifts, but no one seems to notice except for Lupe and Alma.  
  
“Look who we have here. Up and at’em!” He makes a vigorous swing with his fist, like some sort of Happy Days re-run in real life. “Have a seat,” he says, waving at the chairs before his desk.  
  
Tall back, dark wood frames, heavy arms, fancy legs, with studded leather cushions; Alma and Lupe had probably only ever seen something of this quality in their Uncle’s Law firm. Throwing one at somebody would be a death sentence. They take a slow seat and are glad that the arms of each chairs are right next to one another. They immediately grasp hands.  
  
“How was your first days work as citizens of our community?” Negan’s smile is wide and expectant.  
  
“The Laundry room is too stuffy. You need to put fans, food, and water in there, for the old women’s sake. Our mom was older, she used to get heat stroke all the time. It was terrible. You’re putting those ladies in danger with those conditions,” Alma spits.  
  
Negan doesn’t look very pleased by her response at first. She realizes he was likely not being literal. He probably wanted glowing praise and ass kissing. Alma stands her ground. His eyebrows quirk and a smile hides behind the knuckles he leans against his lips. Only then does Alma realize her slip. Lupe squeezes Alma’s hands. She isn’t upset, nor could she be. It was bound to get discovered and manipulated at some point.  
  
“So… Sisters…” Negan grins widely, eyes flashing between the two of them. His suspicion is confirmed. The two work well together, but spatted all the time in Spanish. They are openly affectionate, but obviously not romantic. They may have varied wildly in the body department, but they have the same round features on their faces. Matching dark brown eyes set wide and thick black brows. High cheek bones and wide smiles. The older one has fuller, more fuckable lips though.  
  
He looks at Alma with a wicked and cruel slash of a smile. “So were you an accident, or did your parents plan that big of an age gap?”  
  
Lupe feels her sister wither at the question through the weakened grip on her hand. She gives him the worst look she can muster and hisses, “¡Ella fue magnífica sorpresa, te carajo sin valor!”  
  
Negan grabs his bat and points it levelly. “Now I’m not a racist, but I’d appreciate English in my presence.”  
  
“I said, ‘she was a magnificent surprise, you worthless fuck.’” Lupe smiles and Alma’s tight grip returns to her hand.  
  
Negan grins tightly at her. “More accurate than the tower of babel itself.” He taps his bat on the desk and it clacks against the wood sharply. The sisters don’t move. He narrows his eyes at their stance. Still. Careful. Observant. The younger sister is obviously more well mannered than the older one. She’s so full of anger and hate it leaks out her pores. He thought he might be able to sweeten her up a bit. She seemed like a no nonsense kind of gal.  
  
“How was janitorial?” Negan asks, laying on his charm, sweet as pie.  
  
Lupe licks at her canine with a closed mouth, then speaks in monotone, “Great. Lozano showed me the ropes. Can’t complain.” She was in no way gonna rat out Lozano. Even if he decided to sit on his ass all day and smoke cigarettes and weed for his ‘glackohklahoma’ she wouldn’t say a damn thing. She may not trust strangers, but in the small time she spent in his presence, she hates knowing Negan more.  
  
“That’s chipper to fucking hear.” He looks between both of them. “And have you gotten familiar with our point system?”  
  
Lupe and Alma don’t actually move or say a word, but they somehow communicate the same thought between them. Alma sighs, resigned as her shoulders droop. It happens the same time Lupe opens her mouth, “Yeah, it’s fucking despicable. Working conditions are absurd and dangerous. All of your inventory and services are heinously over priced. You can easily find more shit if you just spent some time looking. This world supported billions of people. A lot of it was hoarded away in the United States. There’s crops that could easily be taken over and maintained to support a population twenty times what you have here. You can still dig through dumpsters and find easy loot to this day. What you’re doing is abusive and violently oppressive.”  
  
Negan chuckles darkly, “Darling, my men put their lives at risk —,”  
  
“So did we,” Alma interrupts. It takes her a bit too long to realize he is irritated by that, but she’s already started talking, “We were out there too. This whole time. There’s so much available. It’s not even that hard.”  
  
“And where is all this stuff that’s just so available?” Negan snaps, testy, but interested. If they are as well traveled as they appear to be, then perhaps he can get more than smart ass remarks and soppy criticism.  
  
Lupe shoots back, “Hey, fuck off with that attitude towards her. She’s trying to help, I’m the one bitching you out.” Negan’s head swivels to her with a bright expectant smile and hooded eyes. Lupe fights the urge to roll hers. “We’ve been wandering all over. I can’t be sure to be honest. When you go out into no mans land there’s lots of factories and farms. You could easily secure one to produce food or wares. I don’t have exact locations. We never needed bulk stuff, just went from car to car.”  
  
“You didn’t have a car when we saved you,” Negan interjects.  
  
“Kidnapped,” Lupe corrects venomously. She proceeds to answer his non question, “We were in our ‘to’ phase. When we set up camp and see what our surroundings can offer.”  
  
“No tent?” he scoffs in disbelief.  
  
“No need,” Alma replies fast. She sees the way Lupe’s jaw clenches at Negan’s badgering. “A tent is basically like a wonton wrapper out there.”  
  
Negan snorts. “Alright, alright. I appreciate the advice and will ignore the bitching.” He taps his bat on the table like a gavel and the girls sit still. He doesn’t like that they aren’t jumpy. Everyone becomes jumpy after their time spent out there. He wonders what state the two of them entered this new world to be so terrifyingly accepting of it. But, it’s also what catches him impressed.  
  
“Now I need strong people to be a part of what I am building here. I need smart people who know how to see a situation and fall in line to protect the greater good. I need people with instincts and talents and the ability to understand loyalty and devotion.” He stares the two of them down, waiting for any sort of reaction. None came. He sighs. “I want the two of you. On my fucking team. How do we make that happen?”  
  
“¡Ni de coña!” Lupe outright spits through indignant laughter.  
  
“Por favor, hermana…” Alma strains not to giggle. “Escúchale, mierda tonta.”  
  
“Stop!” Negan hisses, his bat pointing with a threat.  
  
Lupe glares at him and snaps, “Look, it’s a natural inclination. We can’t stop it anymore than you can stop butchering English.” His stare is blank in return. “And guess what? It’s still racist even when you say, ‘I’m not racist, but…’” Lupe shouts, “Why don’t you learn Spanish, you fuck!” He finally looks taken aback.  
  
She smiles winningly with a sarcastic bite. “See? It sucks being talked to like that. Don’t be such a dick.” She looks over to Alma who’s biting her lips and staring at her knees. “We’ll try, okay? We weren’t even talking about you. Jeez!” Lupe exhales tightly and leans back into her chair. “What sort of ‘teammates’ are you looking for?”  
  
Negan shakes his grinning head and leans forward. “Well, we have a few options here. You could maintain your current jobs, earning next to nothing, and turning senile from the fumes.” He chuckles, getting the older sister’s rounded jaw to clench. “Or we have a few other high priority positions, but not many. If you work hard and earn not only your place, but my trust, you could become a Savior. Serve at my side, maintain an outpost, scavenge, and enforce the rules.”  
  
“What are the rules?” Alma asks, immediately suspicious. This place could be run better by a toddler who hadn’t napped.  
  
Negan sits back, grinning approvingly. “You know, you two are some of the only ones who’ve asked that before jumping in my bed.” His laughter rumbles slowly. Lupe grasps her sister’s hand tighter. “Or rather, in bed with me. Colloquially,” he jokes, but neither of them laugh. His teeth grind, it’s like talking to a pair of fucking walls.  
  
He continues, “The rules are: I am in charge. What I say is fact, no arguments.”  
  
Alma’s face contorts into a ridiculous confounded snarl, her whole body gets thrown into her indignation. It’s the first true appearance of it, so he’ll let it slide.  
  
“No arguments. None,” he growls for emphasis and both girls continue to stare back at him. “We have a few communities under our protection, like Hilltop and the Kingdom. They help provide for us in exchange for said protection. We stroll the woods, taking out the dead, and find humans to help our cause. Humans are a resource. The Saviors keeps resources safe.”  
  
“Humans are humans. They should be considered worth safety because they possess the unique inherent value of being alive,” Lupe snaps. “They also deserve direct value for their labor and cooperative organization to benefit all according to their needs.”  
  
Negan chuckles, frowning. “You some kind of socialist?”  
  
“Dude, you do not want to test those waters,” Alma mutters. Lupe sends her a glare.  
  
“And why not?” Negan gins enigmatically.  
  
Alma shudders out a deep breath. “She’s read everything. Studied a lot. Like extensively. Taught sometimes. She knows her shit.”  
  
“Does she now?” His head swivels back to Lupe. “A teacher?” Negan’s face pinches up in mocking disbelief. “I’d never let you around my kids.”  
  
“I wouldn’t want to be within a mile of your genetic cast offs,” Lupe shoots out reflexively and tries not to grimace at herself. Alma levels a glare at her out the corner of her eye.  
  
Negan gives Lupe a gruff, dark look, smile like a knife slash. “You’re cute, but you’ve got a mouth on you.”  
  
“Never got used to taking people’s shit. It’s a personality defect,” she goes monotone, disinterested.  
  
He smiles again. “So, Miss Dita…” he adjusts suggestively, drawling out her name as he leans back. “What do you think you could do to make this place better, that I already haven’t tried?” He chuckles. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”  
  
“And neither did it fall in one,” Lupe bites back. “You’ve got indentured servants here. I’d call them slaves, but at least you made up some bullshit points. That’s really scraping the bottom of the fucking barrel here though. People need food, water, medical care, safety, security. Each and every person should receive the support they need to survive so we can cooperatively flourish. We were meant to be social organisms, meant to take care of each other. A community exchanges according to their ability and takes care of each other regardless of it.”  
  
She huffs out an annoyed breath, like this is the easiest thing in the world. “That’s how you get your desired loyalty. You treat them like people and work with them, build a real support system. This is just a sad fucking facsimile of Mad Max fascism!” She leans forward in her chair, almost to the point where she wants to stand and shout at him. He doesn’t look down right angry, but he’s still while he stares at her, just watching. She exhales through her nose and narrows her eyes to a glare. “Let me guess, you don’t even give them free water either.”  
  
Negan’s smile spreads like a shark sizing up its prey. “I don’t.” He slams his bat on the table, barbed wire end pointing right at the older sister. She doesn’t flinch, but her sister does instinctively pull her back. “It’s my water. I was the one who made it flow so they will pay their tithings and help me create something out of nothing.”  
  
Lupe finally snorts. “So what? You think you’re god?”  
  
“If the people kneel…” He waves his hand out behind him, gesturing the place surrounding them. Both girls give him a hard glare after that. He keeps his grin and continues, “If you wouldn’t want to be a Savior, there are specialty positions in things like mechanics, engineering, farming and husbandry, cooking, and such. Those jobs are earned under observation and usually by recommendation. They pay better, but they are much harder to get. There’s a market to sell and exchange wares, but you’ll have to shoot your shot with that. Everyone else is a drone. You obey, you contribute, you get points, you survive. That’s it.” The girls glance at each other, having a silent conversation before coming to some sort of agreement.  
  
Negan waits until the older sister is going to speak and puts up a hand. “Ah!” He chuckles to himself animatedly, “I fucking forgot! What an asshole I am! What a — what did you call me earlier? A worthless fuck? Love that…” He smiles almost genially at the sisters. “There is one more position that gets afforded certain privileges.”  
  
His eyes snake between the two. The younger one is pretty, but now that he looks at her, cleaned up and in clothes that fit, he can see youth radiating off of her. He may be an old horn dog, but he’s not entirely depraved. He never thought teenagers were where he should spend his time. Having spent actual time around teenagers, the thought was repulsive.  
  
The older sister though, she not only had fire, but she is built strong and sturdy. She’s not like most of the thin, wisps of the women that lined up for the role, scared, desperate, and meek. She has lush softness covering what are probably a shit ton of muscles. Something to grab onto and something to give you something good back. She has power behind all those curves and he wants a taste of it. He’d been with a lot of women in his time, but he’d never seen someone as enchanting as this little firework.  
  
“Becoming one of my wives,” his voice scrapes low as he speaks, grinning wide.  
  
“¿Que dijo —?” Lupe starts, absolutely gobsmacked. Her head twitches slowly towards Alma. “Did he just say, ‘wives’? As in, the plural of a singular wife? To indicate many? ¡¿Qué chingados?!”  
  
Negan chuckles at Lupe’s reaction, a relatively common one. “Now, your sister —,”  
  
Lupe doesn’t even wait for him to finish. She dives straight for the bat after those words came out of his mouth. Negan wrestles with her, but she gets a few solid hits in before he tosses her back into her chair.  
  
Still behind his desk, he looms over her and shouts, “I wasn’t gonna propose that she do it, you psycho! Jesus!”  
  
“How was I supposed to know that? You starting it with her?! That was your plan!?” Lupe snarls right back. She puts her hands around her mouth, yelling slowly, “You’re a fucking kidnapper that employs rapists!” Alma reaches out to pull her hands down and Lupe concedes. She sits back hard in her chair in a huff. “Fuck you man. Why the fuck do you need multiple wives? That’s sick bullshit.”  
  
Negan swings his bat into the wood of his desk. It’s done with such force, the barbed wire embeds in the wood, knob end sticking up at an angle. The girls still don’t flinch, but he for sure knew they didn’t miss it. He walks around his desk, nearly huffing as he glares at Lupe. He shits down hard on the edge and rips out the bat without much effort. “I take this role very seriously and so do the women that agree. They get something out of it too.”  
  
Something akin to a murderous rage builds up inside of Lupe in a flash. She hates to believe this sick fuck has kept-women he uses for sex. It’s horrifying. It’s despicable. It’s everything but the sort of society they wanted to see flourish. If this is all that is left, the sisters would sooner see it burn to the ground. Hoping that something useful could come from the ashes. Her tone is grating and derisive as she bites out, “And what the fuck is that? Limitless unsatisfying fucks?” Her eyes narrow. “People have an inherent value, whether or not they suck your sad-sack dick.”  
  
The swing of the bat is lightning fast. Alma doesn’t scream until the bat lodges into the side of the high back chair Lupe’s sitting in, mere inches away from her head. Lupe may have squeezed the hands of the chair in preparation. She didn’t desire getting flung about as the chair tipped over on two legs with the hit. But she still doesn’t flinch. The chair jostles back to four legs, knocking some strands of jet black hair into her face. She doesn’t waver in her calculating glare, directed at Negan. Alma shakes, eyeing Negan with something akin to horror and rage.  
  
“I take good care of my wives,” Negan snarls. “The deal is above board. They love, honor, and obey only me, they please only me, and I protect them from everything. I provide for them fully, in each and every way,” he emphasized, ripping the bat out of the chair. “No stress about points or work. They get medical care and the best food. They don’t want for a thing and neither do their families. I won’t take you insulting them.”  
  
Lupe is up on her feet in an instant, chair clattering to the floor behind her. “You think I’m insulting them?! ¡Anda a cagar! You hopeless shit! That isn’t a fucking marriage. You’re forcing them into a sexual relationship when they’re only other option is to die out there. You’re blackmailing them, coercing them! It’s not love! It’s not even close! It’s the opposite!” She screams, “It’s fucking rape!”  
  
The slap rings through the room and Lupe takes it. She is absolutely tired of this horror show. She puts a hand up to stop her sister from doing something foolish. She is just as deadly as Lupe and with twice the nerve. Alma wouldn’t stop herself if it meant someone else didn’t get hurt. She cared too much.  
  
Lupe scoffs, flipping her hair out of her face. Her cheek stings, but she smiles up at Negan emptily. “Look my dude, I am tired. Getting asked to be part of some twisted rape fantasy wasn’t on my bucket list. Now or ever, thanks.”  
  
Alma glares at Negan with tears in her eyes. “You should know better,” she rasps, her voice scorched by disappointment.  
  
Negan visibly deflates at that.  
  
Lupe steals the silence from him with a hiss, “We didn’t want to be here in the first place. You’re keeping us and our property against our will. You kidnapped us and I’m sure you kidnapped the others too.” She steps closer to Alma and reaches out her hand for her to take. “So until a time comes that we can get the fuck out of here, we’ll play by your rules, on one condition —,” Lupe glares at Negan with a deep and vile hatred shaking her words, “— keep yourself and your fucking men away from me and my sister.”  
  
She grabs Alma and moves towards the door, shielding her sister from an attack from behind. She wouldn’t put it past this piece of shit.  
  
“Or what?” Negan’s deep voice coasts through the room on their heels.  
  
Lupe tears the door open and shoves her shaking sister out. She huffs hard. Turning towards Negan with a stretching closed-mouth smile. Laden with an empty sweetness, she says, “I’ll kill them. Every. Single. One.” She goes to follow her sister out the door. Staring at Alma’s tear stained face, Lupe can feel that deep well of hatred start to go bone dry. Her own features folds in exhaustion and grief. She’d need to be more careful and not scare Alma like that.  
  
Negan’s voice breaks her from her despondency. “You’re not allowed weapons in the Sanctuary. Not yet, if ever.”  
  
Lupe smiles weakly at Alma who gazes back at her in honest fear. Lupe throws her head back and a trilling laugh erupts from her throat. She swivels her stare back to Negan, it is level and singeing. “Do you really think that will stop me?” Her last word is tainted by a withheld snarl. She slams the door behind herself and finds two nameless walking leather lumps waiting to escort them away. Lupe is too tired to even care if they have faces. She just knows her and her sister have to get the fuck out of this place.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reformatting chapters 1-4 for reasons. So 1 - 4 now equals 1 - 8. New content in chapter 9 coming soon. Thank you for the patience!!

Lupe would be a liar to say she wished she hadn’t so zealously pursued the path that landed her where she is.  
  
Lying on the cold hard ground.  
  
She laughs at herself. The pop song would loop in her head, even if they hadn’t played it in the cells over and over again to torture her. As much as she disliked the artist as a whole person, she had to admit, she made some poppy shit. Lupe snickers to herself again and sighs. The exhaustion is settling in like an old friend.  
  
She’s in the center of a semi-circle of people she mostly doesn’t know, despite her being stuck at the Sanctuary for over two and a half months. Those she does know, she doesn’t want to look at. Her sister specifically, curling up within the confines of wrinkly skin and saggy elbows. The Laundry women enfold Alma, nearly holding her up as she fights the urge to sob. Lupe had always been better at turning off her emotions when needed. Alma is too tender hearted for that. She cared so much she turned it into a strength. Alma is strong as hell, stronger than anyone in the room, including herself.  
  
“We are gathered here today…” Negan starts from up on the walkway, lording over his subjects.  
  
In tune to the weird fucking nature of the Sanctuary, everyone kneels, joining Lupe on the ground at the mere sound of his voice. Alma has to be dragged down by the older women. She’s too focused on glaring at Negan as he dares to continue to breathe.  
  
His voice is perfect for oration, carrying over the din of fear and gaining momentum because of it. “…To settle the cost of playing judge, jury, and executioner between these walls.” He looks around, his voice building to a boom, “I am the law! I am the decider! And I am your last line of fucking defense against the sick fucking world out there! My rules are what sets us apart from the dead and depraved!” He carefully calmed, tucking back the rage behind all that leather. He waves his hands sharply as he barks melodically, “As you were!”  
  
Lupe freely rolls her eyes as everyone else stands. She wasn’t supposed to stand. She learned that the first time she ended up in this mess. Plus she is way too tired from the fight to give a shit. She put the guy down and made sure he’d stay down. She didn’t let him turn like the last couple that dared to test her certainty. She knew Negan was never serious about the ‘no hurting women and children’ bullshit. He really should be thanking her. She felt like it should be every responsible citizen’s duty to exterminate rapists and attempted ones.  
  
“I don’t doubt that there are some who would be eager to hurt our people, see this place fall. But we will not! We are too strong!” Negan roars as he walks down the stairs. His boots slam against the metal, rattling along with the enormity of his voice. His face is drawn, obviously unhappy. “We can only stay strong if we stay alive!” He strides through the parting crowd like Moses through the Red Sea and stops right in front of Lupe. He overshadows her like a storm cloud, his voice thunder in her ears. He stares into her eyes and the last part he roars directly at her, “We can’t do that by killing each other!”  
  
He stoops down and scoops up Lupe, roughly jostling her sore body. He snarls right in her face, “You know I thought you might have figured it out by the second man you killed. I hate seeing your pretty little face and that slammin’ body getting fucked up like this.”  
  
Lupe snorts emptily. “I thought all those cobardes in your employ would get the point too.” She sighs. “I mean, I had to break so much shit for an improvised weapon because of them. So many points wasted when I should have just kept stepping on their necks.” She smiles at Negan with blood dripping from the corner of her mouth. “I mean they just kept coming like sows to the slaughter,” she giggles, “or— or like lemmings! Over a cliff, you know?”  
  
“You really are a pain in my ass.” Negan throws her to her knees and her patellas crack against the concrete. She fights to keep in a hiss of agony as he spits, “I can’t kill you though, because it’s always been witnessed self defense.”  
  
Lupe raises her arms up and bows from her creaking knees. Negan kicks out at her, his boot slamming into her gut, sending her sprawling onto her back. She doesn’t make a sound as she curls up on the floor again, but he hears her sister crying and yelling in Spanish.  
  
“Shut her up or I will put her down!” Negan roars, pointing the bat towards Alma.  
  
“NO!” Lupe lunges for her sister, but Negan catches her around the waist and yanks her back.  
  
The older women scrabble to block Simon as he approaches, but he easily splits through them. When he reaches for Alma she punches him in the face and makes a move to jump past him. He recovers quickly though, and knocks her on the temple with the butt of his gun. It isn’t nearly hard enough to knock Alma out, but she gets the message as she slumps against the gathered crowd. Simon walks away with a grin as he rubs his jaw.  
  
Lupe writhes in Negan’s arms, screaming profanities in mixed Spanish and English that almost have him doing a double take from their vibrant intensity. “She didn’t do anything!” Lupe bellows, turning towards Negan as she thrashes against him. “Go ahead! Hit me!” She swings and smacks him on the jaw. “¡Pinche cobarde sin valor! Do your own fucking dirty work for once you soulless piece of shit!” she screams unabashedly as she tries to strike at him again. He throws her to the floor and she skitters from the impact. When she tries to get to her hands and knees, he kicks her in the ribs.  
  
“No…” Alma mutters softly. Marigold places a gentle hand over Alma’s mouth. Her eyes foggy from the strike, but refusing to close. She wouldn’t leave her sister alone.  
  
Lupe rolls over and clambers up onto shaking hands and knees. She is almost crouching, facing Alma, but Negan steps into her view. Staring at her sister through the wide spread of Negan’s stance, Lupe desperately fights the tears and the rage coursing through her. She beats the side of her fist against the floor in frustration.  
  
Saviors line the semi circle, some out in the crowd. Not enough to stop her from getting to that Mustachioed Bitch and showing him the proper end of a gun. Each Savior has enough weapons that Lupe could manage to get at least one of them. Hopefully loose a few bullets. She wouldn’t stop until significant damage was done and her sister was safe. She spreads her fingers against the floor, like she’s readying for a race, prepping for the gunshot to set her off. The coiled tension in her body radiates waves of heat all around and through her. Fury sets her on fire.  
  
“Ah, ah, ah, I know that look.” Negan props up her chin with his bat again, digging the barbed wire into her skin, trying to force her to look at him. She has scabs, cuts and scars littering the lower parts of her jaw, evidence of her efforts to behaviorally tell him to fuck right off.  
  
“You know, you’re such a fucking challenge, I’m starting to think you like to get hurt!” He laughs and the Saviors join in. Some of the crowd let out a nervous chuckle, but it doesn’t seem genuine. Negan yanks his bat from her face and kneels next to her. “Now I want you to be honest, do you get wet every time we do this?”  
  
She manages a glare in his direction that’s laden with disdain.  
  
He grins wide. “That look right there.” He bites his bottom lip, pointing at her face with gloved hand. “You looking at me like you have thirty-five new ways to kill me, gets me hard as a rock!” He is back up on his feet, leisurely strolling around her in a tight circle and swinging his bat haphazardly. “You enjoy being smacked around, or what? Did mommy and daddy not love you enough?” He makes an exaggerated pout towards the crowd and earns himself some more canned laughter.  
  
His little tirade is interrupted by Lupe’s weak snort. Her voice scratches along her vocal cords, due to lacking water from sitting in the cells for a day or two. “Funnily enough I had great parents.” She sits back on her heels and bites out, “Adoring parents, so I’d appreciate you not fucking talking about them.” She looks up at him lackadaisically, disinterestedly shrugging, “And ya’know, I’m kinda in pain all the time, so your whole sado-mas-thing does nothing for me, really. Dry as a desert every time I lay my eyes on you.”  
  
Her body sways and a smile washes across her face, mixing with the blood and making her look like some sort of omen. “Ooooh…” She lets her body shudder before opening her eyes and focusing intently on Negan. Lupe smiles and breathes headily, “But watching you, really witnessing it,” her tone morphs, sharpening, becoming biting, “seeing you become that monster you’ve always been, but so desperately try to hide behind that noxious charm and fragile machismo?” The words are almost a whisper on the tip of her tongue as she leans towards him, “That gets me going.”  
  
Her smile twists as he pulls back from her. She continues, following him as well as she can without leaving her knees. “I find immense pleasure in watching your mask wither, so I can see that pitiful, empty husk behind it.”  
  
Her eyes bat at him playfully. “Cause, if I can see it?” Lupe asks suggestively and looks around the room with wide open eyes. Her absent gaze across the horrified crowd is joined by a slowly building grin, as if that is answer enough.  
  
“So who molded this monster, hm? Was that projection I heard?” Lupe’s eyes trace their way back to Negan’s face, his hands almost shaking as he grips his bat. “Whose mommy or daddy didn’t love who?”  
  
She smiles again airily, but it drops fast. She bites out her words, “Gaslighting. Manipulation. Narcissistic entitlement.” Her voice rises sharply, “Your mediocrity is so fucking predictable!”  
  
Lupe growls at him, “Tell me Negan, you say you don’t usually like beating on women…” A petulant curiosity falls across her features, “That sounds like you’ve done it before and you’ll do it again —,” she smiles unabashedly and laughs, “—present company expected of course —,” she’s back to her girl-next-door jibe, with her soft sweet tone, “but by golly gee, you say it just really hurts your poor little rapist heart.” She gazes up at him in a squint, an aggressive wonder twitching in her cheeks, “That mean you beat your real wife? You know, before all this?”  
  
He almost lunged at her for that. She saw him twitch in her direction. No one probably knew a thing about his previous life and there she is, with vague guesses, picking off his layers like a paper doll. Lupe laughs in his face, sputtering out the rest, “Or—or you didn’t?” She clicks her tongue at him in mock admonishment. “Oh!” She leans in conspiratorially. “That’s why your bat is named Lucille! That’s your real wife’s name, isn’t it?”  
  
She grins wide seeing the rage in him build and build, like she won the best of all prizes. Lupe keeps pressing, wanting him to unfold, wanting him to lose it and fail. “I bet that way?” her words sound like a question, but are more of a verdict, “You can hurt her memory every time you use it.” Her tone continues, too light for the topic, “Right? Cause you probably missed your chance when she was alive, didn’t you?”  
  
Another bark of her melodic laughter permeates the silence. “Or were you just the type to find ways to hurt her without beating her? Like a coward… Let me guess…” She looks him up and down in a blink. “Serial cheater?” She watches the fury sew itself onto his features and she ignores the way her sister cries at her to stop.  
  
“Go ahead Negan…” Lupe smiles at him with a promise in her eyes. “Hurt Lucille. One. More. Time.”  
  
Negan reels back and punches her, hard. Lupe’s face stays pressed against the cement like it hit her back on the way down. She just giggles and blood gurgles out of her mouth. She slowly gets back up to her knees, smiling and snickering still. He kicks her hard in the side and she flies immediately to the ground again, skidding on the floor almost two whole feet. She gasps out another mouthful of blood, but it’s still between subtle chuckles. Negan stalks over and grabs her by her disheveled braid, dragging her back over to the center.  
  
He growls to the crowd, “We do not harm those within our walls unless they break the rules. We do not engineer opportunities to harm those that protect us —,”  
  
“Bull shit!” Lupe snarls explosively. His insinuation that she would use her sister as bait and waste her time ‘planning’ to kill these pathetic assholes was absurd.  
  
Negan strikes her with his fist again. “You will put up!” He kicks her in the stomach and stalks around her cowering form.  
  
“You will shut up!” His booted heel slams directly into her spine. Her body rocketed away from the strike.  
  
He picks her up and hoists her to be at his eye level while snarling, “You will help us thrive or you —!” his hands squeeze around her neck, she can’t breathe and her feet can’t even scrape the floor. His eyes are bright with rage and he roars, inches from her face, “— You. Will. Not. Survive!” He drives the point home by slamming her down against the concrete floor.  
  
“For your violence!” Negan stands back up and starts pacing again. He flips his bat and slams the knob end into her gut, right into her diaphragm. She coughs up a deluge of blood and has to roll her onto her side not to choke.  
  
“For your defiance!” he rails wildly, stomping on her side.  
  
“For your disloyalty…”  
  
A hush fell over the crowd at the pure, incensed rage in his tone. She giggles emptily as she flails onto her back.  
  
Negan turns to the people gathered and gazes into the sea of faces, swimming between tears and terror. He grins wide. “Simon, get three other men and hold down her arms and legs.”  
  
Lupe immediately turns over and scrambles, but she is slow and belligerent as she tries to crawl. Negan stalks after her, a smile on his face as he flips the bat back into its proper grip. He swings and the barbed wire digs into the back of her upper thigh. He’s finally blessed with one of Lupe’s preciously rare screams. He tugs her back into the awaiting arms of the men charged with holding her down.  
  
Lupe gets flipped onto her back, jarring her head against the cement. She struggles, fights, and snarls until each man had feet planted against her body, stretching out her limbs to a painful limit. She grits her teeth to keep from screaming. Her head turns when a foot presses up against her cheek, forcing her to look towards her sobbing sister, wrapped in a pile of crying wrinkles.  
  
“It’s okay!” Lupe immediately shouts. “¡No hay bronca!” She smiles weakly and grunts, “¡Está bien!” Tears fill her eyes as two long, black clad legs frame her vision. She bites her lip, refusing to let her gaze towards Alma falter. “¡Te quiero manita! ¡Eres mi corazon! ¡Para Siempre! Estos jodidas mierdas —,”  
  
Negan kneels, closing off her ability to reassure Alma. Lupe levels an angry glare at him from the corner of her eyes. The boot presses against her face and holds her head so it’s directed at his crotch.  
  
He smiles at her disgusted wriggling as he undoes his belt. “Still not interested in becoming a wife?”  
  
Lupe spits blood on his boots. “I’d rather fuck a chainsaw.”  
  
Negan flicks the shoe off her face so he can grab her chin, forcing her eyes to his. “Baby girl, if you like it rough, all you’d have to do is ask.” He flings her head back against the concrete and it bounces off. He shoves something in her mouth and snarls, “Bite down.”  
  
Lupe tries not to gag with the leather holding her tongue down. Her vision blurs and her neck wobbles bonelessly. Cool air hits her stomach. Hands are loosening her pants. An instinct so young and old at the same time, resting inside of her for too many years, bubbles up and forces her to try and fight. She gets one leg free and kicks the guy in the sternum hard enough to leave him gasping. She wriggles wildly, but Negan crawls up on top of her thighs, straddling her as another man kneels on her shins.  
  
Negan leans in, closing a hand around her neck. “Don’t move…” he whispers near enough to her lips that she can taste his breath. It makes her gag further around his belt.  
  
Negan leans back with a hand still on her throat. He smiles wide, tips his barbed wire bat against her skin, and starts to carve.  
  
Lupe doesn’t remember much while she screamed. Mostly, her body was lit up with an agony that was unimaginably jagged and impossibly layered. Her skin was freshly cut and then her nerve endings were exposed, dragged through, torn up, and ruined. She couldn’t feel anything but pain, a pulsing torment as she laid on the floor, wallowing in her own blood.  
  
“Since our beloved Dita is just so fucking self sufficient and she doesn’t want our community or its help,” Negan snarls as her vision spins. “She can manage to make her way to the infirmary on her own. No one touches her.”  
  
Negan has to force the doctor away from her. Alma is nearly apoplectic. She gets dragged away by a group of Saviors who were too easily laughing at her pain and shoving old ladies around. Alma landed a few decent hits before Negan stepped in and smacked her upside the head with the knob end of his bat.  
  
That gets Lupe to her feet, holding onto her stomach and feeling like her insides are going to start pouring out any second. Seeing Alma, limp, in his arms, stirred something homicidal in her.  
  
“Let go of her!” Lupe roars through the blood in her mouth. She staggers over to Negan, wailing on him with the arm that wasn’t holding in her innards. She manages to jab her finger in his eye. He snarls curses and lets go of Alma with Lupe’s arms waiting under her. They crumple to the ground together in a heap. Lupe huffing breaths too hard to notice the blood getting all over both of them.  
  
Negan glares down at them. Lupe shakes violently, her bruised and bloody body curls around her sister so that no one can touch her. She kicks out at anyone who gets close, bites and scratches at hands. Though he doubts she can see through her pain.  
  
“Fuck it!” Negan snarls, turning away from the scene. “Clear out!” he shouts.  
  
There is a shambling of feet and murmuring of voices as people exit the warehouse. Lupe sits, ignoring her pain, but allowing the tears to finally flow as she grips her unconscious sister. Lupe hates herself so violently, so wholly, she can’t let go of Alma and leave her again. The whole reason her little sister is in this mess is because Lupe left to go get food just for a second. When she came back, some pale grease spot of a Savior had his arm wrapped around Alma. She would have proceeded calmly if it was consensual and that was it. It wasn’t.  
  
The Savior’s hand gripped Alma’s young face and stroked her neck. Alma writhed against him, her arms pinned at her sides and trying to bow away from him. Lupe remembers meeting Alma’s dazed stare, fear blooming in the brown depths. It ignited something primal in Lupe that she couldn’t stop. The next moment, she was standing over another corpse, twitching its way towards death. A quarter of a ceramic bowl covered in oatmeal jutted out of its face. The other half she’d shattered against a metal table to get herself a sharp enough edge. Lupe barely remembers anything else past staring at her blood covered hands.  



	6. Chapter 6

  
A pair of boots tread softly into her line of vision. They aren’t boots she sees the most often and the shapely legs definitely didn’t belong to Negan or Simon. Her crying couldn’t cease, but Lupe looks up and stares at the tall, lithe form hovering over her. The woman’s skin is a shade like her own, but she is taller, with her tight curls spun up into a faux hawk at the crown. She has a large gun strapped to her back, two others on her thighs, and knives at her hips.  
  
“What?” Lupe snarls. There’s no other way for the words to come out, everything inside of her is going nuclear and she is barely holding on.  
  
The woman flinches slightly. “I’m Arat.” Her words come out like a shot.  
  
Lupe glares up at the woman in Savior leathers, staring down at her with something undistorted by their usual disdain for others. “So?” Lupe sniffles.  
  
Arat sighs and kneels down in front of her. “Listen, don’t go to the infirmary, the doctor is a fucking creep. He gropes everyone except Negan and the Saviors.” She scoffs. “Well, all the male Saviors.” She levels a look of concern at Lupe and then Alma. “Let’s get back to your room. I can help.” She glances around again and despite the hard glare plastered on her face, she whispers, “I used to be a nurse.”  
  
Lupe narrows her gaze at her suspiciously. “Why are you a Savior then?”  
  
Arat shrugs. “Savior pays better than a nurse. I checked. Plus, I get lots of weapons to threaten creeps.” She starts peeking at Lupe while she sits there, shivering and gripping her sister like it’d be her last act on earth. Arat utters, “I worked my way up as a Savior for points because I needed them. Bad.” She huffs through her nose, short and hard. “Can you walk?”  
  
Lupe replies with a croak, “I think so.”  
  
“Alright, give her to me —,” Arat starts, but Lupe curls further around Alma. “Listen, I won’t hurt you two. My devotion isn’t to all this bullshit, it’s to points and the medicine they provide. I need them to care for my mom, okay?”  
  
Lupe eyes her warily, a bite to her tone, “Why not just become a wife?”  
  
Arat scoffs. “First, I’m a lesbian. Second, even if I wasn’t a lesbian, you’d have to hold me hostage with a tank to get me even close to touching Negan with a ten foot strap on.” Her smile is tense, but real. “White guys are basically the exact opposite of my type. They make my pussy shrivel if they even breathe near me.”  
  
“I’ll light a candle for your pussy. It must have turned to dust in this place.” Lupe chuckles. She needs to bite her lip to keep in a wail as the amusement rattles right back into pain.  
  
“Come on now, let me take her.” Arat nods her head at Alma. “Then I’ll get you cleaned up.”  
  
Lupe looks like she was about to cut and run. Instead, she grits her teeth, looks at Arat and nods. “You put her in danger and I’ll kill you.”  
  
“Fair enough,” Arat grunts, rolling Alma into her arms and hefting her up easily. Lupe carefully crawls to her feet and shuffles after Arat. The tall woman is attentive, not walking too fast on her super long legs.  
  
“How’d you get here?” Lupe muses, mostly delirious.  
  
Arat has a hard countenance to read, but she doesn’t seem cruel. A lot of the Saviors have a sourness to their eyes, something so deep with rot that it poisoned them on the outside too. Arat had motives, but they were devoted outside herself and not directly to Negan.  
  
“Been here since almost the beginning,” she replies, but there’s not much dedication to it. Her tone is easy as she continues, “My dad died not too long before this all started, regular old heart attack. My mom has diabetes, so I was trying to find her somewhere safe, somewhere she could breathe, somewhere we could find medicine. With all the crap out there, it was just too much.”  
  
Arat clears her throat. “I was at work. Hospital. ER. Armed forces were shooting people in the halls, killing patients in their beds —,” a gentle, shaken gasp pushes its way past her lips, “— newborn babies and their parents…” Arat shakes her head hard.  
  
“Some of the doctors tried to stop them and got gunned down, so the rest of the staff told us to just split. We tried to get some patients out, we succeeded with a few, but we got overrun because of all the gunshots and some soldiers not being wise enough to go for the head. It was a massacre.” She glances down at Lupe. “Saviors found us eventually in the bus I stole from the hospital as it was falling.”  
  
Lupe sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s fucked.”  
  
Arat’s snort is short along with the bitter curl of her lip. “Yeah, pretty much the story of everyone’s lives these days.”  
  
They walk at a glacial pace. “True.” Lupe’s huffing hard and trying to focus. “Did you get the whole wife shpeel then?”  
  
“Yeah, but only after he heard about my mom. I said no, cause of the whole Lesbian thing, and he dropped it. Offered the chance at being a Savior next.” Her eyes flutter over to Lupe. “Don’t know why he has it out for you.” Her tone drops with a joyless sarcasm, “Totally can’t be your stellar attitude.”  
  
Lupe looks up, snarling, “Why the fuck are you even helping me then? Trying to get me to see the light?”  
  
Arat laughs in the breadth of her rage, but it isn’t condescending. Her face twists with a sickened smile. “Hell no! I just want people to be safe.”  
  
“Negan is making people the opposite of safe. Me and her are evidence enough,” Lupe spits. They eventually reach the sisters’ door. Lupe was going to open it, but Arat’s voice stops her.  
  
“He wasn’t always like this,” she mutters. “I’m not saying he was ever a super great dude, but, like, he didn’t do this. He told me this place started out like the primordial ooze. It was just the basest of humanity, writhing for the top spot. They used to do raids, worse than now. They’d just level towns and mangle people, even as far as Florida and Georgia. Then Negan stepped up. He got his power. He made his rules and he lived by them strictly. After about a month this place shaped up. I was one of the first women to ever walk through those doors that wasn’t a war trophy. I didn’t even get punished for offing my attempted rapist.” Arat’s jaw winds tight as the thoughts ramble through her head. “I joined as a Savior. I joined cause I needed to keep my mom breathing. And she is, because he keeps finding her medicine.”  
  
“Why are you telling me this?” Lupe grumbles, anger seeping out as tears as she pushes open the door.  
  
Arat puts Alma down on the bed and carefully situates her. Her fingers are precise, steady, and float like feathers from spot to spot. She finishes probing Alma’s head before she answers. “It’s not an excuse, that’s for sure. I just… think you should know.”  
  
She turns to face Lupe and she finally gets a full glimpse of Arat. She looks like she belonged on Themyscira, not its shit hole bizarro opposite. Lupe has to swallow hard and stop a swoon. It could have been the blood loss, but Arat is gorgeous.  
  
“I just want you to know, not all of us here have our heads so far up Negan’s ass that we think he’s a god or anything. Some of us just don’t know how else to survive anymore.” Arat shakes her head, exhaling through tensed lips. She eyes Lupe, hoping to impart some sincerity. She nods towards the circular coffee table in the corner of the room. “Lay down there, it’s big enough for you to stay comfortable.” She snorts. “Lucky you’re short or you’d need a bigger table.”  
  
“Ay, pinche pendeja,” Lupe grumbles animatedly.  
  
“Mira wey,” Arat snaps, “no quiero tu mierda ahora.” She smiles wickedly. “I need to take care of those cuts.”  
  
“Ah fuck, so you’ve been understanding us this whole time?” Lupe groans as she gets up on the table. Arat helps her.  
  
“I don’t really listen to be honest. I might catch bits and pieces, but I don’t think I’m as fluent as you and your sister.” She grins and it’s distant, serene. “My dad’s parents came from Cuba, he was fluent and he taught me some so he could still chat. My mom doesn’t speak a lick of Spanish. She’s Southern Black, Georgia Black, which has a diverse cultural flourish on the vernacular itself.”  
  
Lupe nods. She grits her teeth while Arat lifts her shirt. She hisses out a tight breath from the discomfort. She groans out, “Language is amazing.”  
  
Arat smiles as she goes to search for the first aid kit, finding it on top of the fridge. “I know you probably mean that, but you sound so miserable.”  
  
Lupe can’t help a teary chuckle. “This hurts like all fucking hell.”  
  
Arat sighs, shoulders slumped. She sits down after washing her hands. She wipes the sweat and hair out of Lupe’s face with gentle quaking fingers. Her brows bend in concern as she forces a weak smile. “It’s gonna be worse, because I have to clean and stitch you up.” She looks down at the table sadly. “Have you realized what he did?”  
  
“He scratched the shit out of me with his fucked up little bat.” Lupe snarls, trying not to relish in the comfort of another’s touch. It had been too long since she was treated with kindness outside her own sister. Alma was too good sometimes. She made Lupe feel almost unclean in comparison. It was nice to sit with someone faulty, complex, and maybe just as confused as she was about all this.  
  
Arat huffs through tight breaths, but nods. “He did do that, but it was purposeful.”  
  
“Purposeful? What the fuck does that mean?” Lupe growls and then whines as pain sparks through her.  
  
Arat bites her lower lip and shouldn’t have looked so cute being so torn. “He —,” her head drops as her voice quavers, “— he carved a big ’N’ into your stomach.”  
  
Lupe lost all sense of fondness as a cold chill threaded through her. She thought she could handle hearing whatever fucked up thing Negan meant to impart. She handled the whipping of her bare legs in front of leering Saviors. She handled the iron burns on her back. She wore the cuts and bruises from her beatings proudly, like a Scarlet Letter of her remaining dignity. She would happily suffer the consequences of killing in lieu of letting someone rape her or her sister. She wouldn’t let Negan have the satisfaction of making her feel guilty for it.  
  
However, the gross bodily violation of him carving himself a piece of her, just absolutely wrecks her. Lupe starts sobbing. The heaving, ugly tears of someone so finished with the world, its like their organs might eject from their eyes. She gasped and gagged, sobbed and hurled. Arat has to help her turn over so she won’t choke. She strokes Lupe’s head until she stops crying, passed out from the exhaustion and pain.  
  
Arat thumps her head on the table, shaking it back and forth against the cool formica.  
  
“Wha— what are you doing to her!?” Alma suddenly yells, flailing off the bed as she scrambles to fight, find a weapon, and regain full consciousness.  
  
“Hey…” Arat tries, ignored by the frantic girl. “Hey!” Arat shouts and finally shocks Alma out of her panicked trance. The girl turns and Arat spreads her lips into a soft grin, “I helped you and your sister to your room. I’m Arat.”  
  
Alma rubs her head and flinches at the forming bruise on her temple. “Mierda…” she hisses and then glares at Arat. “I thought Negan said she had to drag herself off to the infirmary herself?”  
  
Arat grins wider. “Yeah well Negan fucked off outside the gates and I didn’t feel like being a soulless piece of shit today.” She turns back to the knocked out Lupe and rolls her onto her back. “Help me out. I’m gonna need some assistance while I stitch her.”  
  
Alma came over obediently, grabbing a blanket off the end of their bed and folding it up for beneath Lupe’s head. “What do I do?”  
  
Arat nodded towards the top half of her sister. “I’ll need you to cross her arms over her chest and then lean pretty much all of your weight on her. I need her to stay as still as possible.”  
  
Alma looks particularly horrified, nodding back anyway. She blinks once. “Okay, wait a second.” She goes to their cupboards and starts rummaging around, pulling out a hefty bottle of tequila that only had about one quarter left.  
  
“Wait, where’d you get that?” Arat snaps seeing the familiar bottle.  
  
Alma freezes as she carries it over. “I — it — I won it. During poker,” she squeaks, “from Dolores, in Laundry.”  
  
Arat rolls her eyes. “It be your own goddamn family. Can’t believe my mom is slinging my booze.”  
  
Alma rushes over after hearing that, her smile unbound. “Dolores is your mom?”  
  
Arat nods. “So what are you gonna do with my tequila?”  
  
Alma grabs a cup and fills about half of it with the clear liquid. She pats Lupe roughy on the cheek and demands, “Drink the tequila. We have to stitch you.”  
  
Lupe screws up her face, pinched in on the nose, but reaches for the cup. She swigs it all down in a few gulps with half closed eyes and a horrible grimace.  
  
“Keep it down!” Alma growls. Lupe writhes against the taste, half gagging. “Do it! You don’t wanna have to feel these stitches.” Lupe makes a very petulant face, full of a vulnerable anger and sorrow. Alma’s voice softens as she pats her sister on the head. “Está bien. Duermete ahora. It’ll all be over soon.”  
  
“I hate this place…” Lupe whispers, vulnerable and childlike. “I’m so sorry I got us here,” her voice teeters on the edge of a sob. Her face buckles under the weight of her failure and resulting agony. “It’s my fault. It’s my fault they keep trying to hurt you.”  
  
“Cállate. Eres muy malacopa,” Alma whispers back, chastising and sweet. “I’m the one that got us here by surrendering. I should have done what you said. I just didn’t want them to hurt you anymore. I just wanted it to stop. I thought it might work here. I thought people could be better. I was wrong.”  
  
Lupe, starting to get even more belligerent, shakes her head with a stilted slowness. “No, no, no, querida.” She smiles with half of her face. “You had hope and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Her head thumps back against the blanket and she shudders out a breath. “Keep that hope,” she mumbles, “todavía hay tiempo para matarlos.”  
  
Arat’s eyes go big as saucers and she looks up at Alma. Alma froze, caught for a second before she forces a smile on her face that squints up her eyes. “Ha…” She immediately looks away from Arat and folds her sister’s arms up on her chest. “Start now. She’ll be out through the night.” Arat looks shocked. Alma rolls her eyes. “She’s such a fucking lightweight.”  
  
Arat chuckles softly and rearranges herself. She lays over Lupe’s legs to keep her immobile and give a good vantage point for a tight stitch. She stares at the gaping wounds covering the majority of Lupe’s stomach. The grimace forms itself. “The scar is gonna be bad.”  
  
Alma stares down at the table from where she lays across her sister. Tears fall onto the formica silently as Arat cleans the cuts. She couldn’t do anything but mimic her sister’s long, drawn breaths. “I know,” she squeezes out through grit teeth. Lupe twitches beneath her, stirring gently when Arat starts her first stitch.


	7. Chapter 7

Negan doesn’t like when his plans don’t work out like he wants. He doesn’t like when the pieces don’t all lock into place. He acknowledges his deep seated need for control is excessive. Sometimes the enormity of his own pride makes him wish he could falter with dignity.  
  
The problem with being a leader like Negan is that a person can grow to be seduced by their station. Negan doesn’t like it when people don’t need him. He wants to see people crave him. He likes to hear them beg. He outright hungers for the pride he gains from the fear in their eyes. He loves to see them on their knees, praying to him like a god.  
  
It’s why he’s so particularly bothered that after nearly four months occupying the same space, he hasn’t gained an inch with that spectacular older sister. He has to admit that he was way past preoccupied with her. He likes to watch the way she worked, unperturbed by the people around her. She doesn’t process a thing unless it has to do with her sister or Lozano.  
  
After her last public punishment, Negan decided to tell his men to finally back off. It wasn’t like it was a direct order, more just… casual insinuations to bug the two. Those sisters were a patient set, didn’t react until his men crossed the lines. The first one accosted the older sister directly and got the shit kicked out of him for it. He remained alive since he’d only got to her lower back. Negan watched his wrist snap like a twig when she tossed him against the wall and kicked his hand around the corner. The men thought they got wise and went after the younger one, thinking she was easier prey. That just made it so much worse on them. The older sister didn’t hold back once her little sibling was in the crosshairs.  
  
He let the sisters simmer with their fear and pain for a while. He’d pushed a little here and there, but he kept himself and his men distant. Hanging around, talking to the right folks, he carefully observed the older sister’s recovery from afar. He’d especially enjoyed watching their turmoil unfold after they were told about the massive debt they owed. The older sister almost immediately went back to work, finally able to get out of bed.  
  
Punishment was Negan’s favorite bag. He hadn’t gotten to see his handy work yet, but he’s looking forward to it with an intoxicating anticipation. He’d asked Doctor Carson about the scarring, but the doc said he hadn’t done the work. Negan assumed the younger sister must have done it. He certainly wouldn’t gain any points with her if that was the case. He knows he’ll get the perfect show of it eventually, if everything works out like he wants it to.  
  
Granted, he hadn’t actually anticipated her murdering so many of his men, or him carving the first letter of his name into her stomach. She’d riled something deep inside of him that made bashing people’s skulls in with a barbed wire bat look merciful. He wanted that dire surge for survival that kept her pushing on, relentlessly killing threats to her and hers. He wanted to siphon off all that sick rage, consume her darkness with his own. She was a force of nature and boy, did he ever want that lightning in a bottle. He wants to possess her.  
  
Thus he was in his current situation, having his pants feeling too tight in a bland grey cafeteria with shinning metal tables. She healed relatively fast, but her movement is stiff and limited. As she bends over to clean, her face twitches with each swipe of the wet cloth. She wears an oversized shirt, tucked into the front of her pants, slung almost excessively low. As she leans further with a grimace, he can see the wide expanse of her lower back, soft, rounding, and dimpled at the base of the spine.  
  
Negan licks his lips unabashedly at the sight. As if caught in a tractor beam, he saunters up behind her, not being quiet with the fall of his boots. With the way she stiffens, he’s sure she knows it’s him. His hair stands on end at that, goosebumps tickling his flesh in excitement. She’s learned to differentiate between different people’s gaits and he finds that overwhelmingly fascinating. He slides in behind her and she shoots up instantly, before his hands could grasp her waist.  
  
Lupe hisses as the healing skin of her stomach pulls. She didn’t think Negan would be so bold to position himself in such an insulting and violent way. Especially after all she’d done. Though she shouldn’t have been surprised. She tries to sidestep him, but he kicks up a foot onto the bench and blocks her. Lupe’s back faces him and she manages to keep in her curse. She shuffles quickly in the other direction, halted by a sharp prick on her arm. She immediately jumps back from the far too familiar sensation. Lucille stretches out from his grasp, the barest tip of the barrel resting along the table top’s edge, caging her in. She hadn’t stopped having nightmares about that bat and its wielder.  
  
Too late, Lupe realizes she’d backed right up into Negan. She’s pressed against his warmth like a seal sunning on the rocks. Albeit, she has the temperament of one hiding from an orca. With her body plastered against his, he perches an elbow on his knee, his body curling closer, arm swinging casually around her side. He drags the bat across the metal table top, closing in on her. She refuses to start shaking, even when his fingers absently play with the loose fabric at the front of her shirt.  
  
“You’re looking mighty fine Dita,” Negan growls into her ear. His body shifts behind hers, accommodating to the press of her. “Feeling mighty fine too. So fucking soft and warm. Somethin’ I could just sink into for days.”  
  
The last word murmurs into her skin and the burn of him makes her want to retch. Lupe whirls away, shoving at his knee harshly and shuffling away. When his support is lost, he falters hard. The bat rattles against the bench and his boot stomps down on the floor from the jagged momentum. She did not look back. She did not stumble. She merely grips the fabric at her stomach, grits her teeth, and refuses to stop moving. She realizes she isn’t moving very fast out of the clearing cafeteria, as others were fleeing much quicker. Her eyes dart around at all the down-turned faces abandoning her to the lions. Tight hands grip her hips and tug. She did not pass go. She did not collect two hundred points. She stumbled this time, right back into his chest.  
  
“I’ve been meaning to speak to you darlin’,” Negan croons in her ear. “Why don’t we go back up to mine and have a little chat?” His hand hovers over her stomach, dangerously close to her healing scars.  
  
Despite the pain, Lupe yanks herself out of his grasp. She turns, with tears in her eyes and snarls at him, “I can barely climb the two flights up to my own room, thanks the fuck to you! So I’ll have to decline attempting to make it up to your goddamn ivory tower.” She turns and tries to storm away, but his hand is on her again. His fingers wrap around her wrist and it isn’t playful and invading. This touch is meant to make her stop. It is iron clad.  
  
Lupe spits out muttered curses between her teeth. Her eyes shut tight and she tries to push the pain and irritation away. She has to just turn it all off. If she has to kiss his ass to make sure he keeps his distance, she’ll do it. She’ll play his games if it means he’ll stay away from her sister. She allows Negan to turn her and pull her back. She doesn’t squeeze up close to him, even though he tries to get her to do so. She has to press a flat hand against his stomach, shaking her head and biting back a sob. He stops and she wishes she felt relief.  
  
Negan’s hand curves around her back, wrapping her up in himself. He dedicates some effort to keeping a bit of distance from her healing wounds. A sly smile spreads across his lips. “We can talk right here then.” His body curls around her short frame, encompassing her in whatever shadow follows him around.  
  
It smothers her completely. “What can I do for you Negan?” she asks with what could be called civility.  
  
Negan arcs an eyebrow along with a sly grin. “Well, I sure am fucking pleased as pie you asked.” He licks his lips and notices she followed the movement. There is no reaction though. Not a drop of reciprocated lust, but neither disgust. That seems to be progress. “You and I have something hanging between us, causing,” he bites his lower lip, taking her in, standing there and actually fighting to not be defiant, “tension.”  
  
“The debt?” she specifies, doing her best to avoid the excessively drawn out cat and mouse game.  
  
Nodding, he pops her on the nose with his finger. “You are a very smart cookie. I still like that about you.” He turns and slowly guides her over to a metal table. He leans against the head of it, perching up one of his heels on the bench, and pulls her to the inside of his knee. She lets him, flows with his movements like water. “Now, I know we have had our moments of unpleasantness, but this debt here has to be settled.”  
  
“I’m back to work already,” her jaw rolls as she tries to restrain her tone.  
  
The scars he put there on her chin the first time they met are still the most prominent, shining like diamonds in the sunlight. He vividly remembered that day, positioning her, sopping up her fear. Rather than let him enjoy it, she ripped her face away from his beloved Lucille. Lucille had a taste for her blood now. He had a mind to let her have every single drop.  
  
“I’ll figure things out. If you let me outside of the gates, I could handle some shit myself without needing points,” she bites back the annoyance seeping into her tone. Then fails to. “I am still recovering from being carved up like a Christmas ham. If I need remind you, due to increasing age affecting your memory? And I didn’t even use your goddamn doctor, so what the hell is this debt really about?”  
  
Negan smiles. “The first aid kits aren’t exactly complementary.”  
  
She gapes at him, lower lip trembling in disbelief. “That’s a contrived, bull shit charge and you know it.”  
  
“I make the charges. You saying I’m full of shit?” His smile is sharp, but his tone is exaggerated and teasing.  
  
She rolls her eyes, her tone resigned, “Just tell me what the fuck you want Negan. I’m exhausted.”  
  
“Well, I do have an extra room upstairs I think you’d find mighty comfy for your recovery.” His smile is pure charm.  
  
Lupe stares at him in blatant disappointment. “Are we really still here?” Her tone droops like her breath doesn’t want to bother with the words, “You’re still trying to force me to fu—,”  
  
He snaps his fingers in her face and she wisely shuts her mouth. “I don’t force anyone to do anything. It’s a binding agreement, just like any marriage.” His tone goes harsher, “Now you have racked up a sizable debt due to medical supplies and absences from work. That can easily be wiped away by agreeing to be my wife. You’ll also receive free care until you’ve healed properly.” He adjusts his jacket, watching her out of the corner of his haughty frown. “It’d also keep your sister from getting punished.”  
  
“Why in the fuck would she get punished?” Lupe snarls and glares, shaking with rage.  
  
Negan can’t stop the smile that creeps onto his face. “I specifically recall saying that no one should help you.”  
  
Lupe’s hands grasp his lapels as she lunges. “You son of a —!” she yelps in garbled, willowy way and suddenly doubles over.  
  
Negan leans forward and catches her, tugs her closer by the hips. Her head falls against his shoulder, her hands cling to his lapels as she breathes deeply through the horrific sensations. Negan might be a little sick, reveling that he was the one to make her feel that way, but he knows it. He brushes his nose against her hair. “What was that pet?”  
  
“You assumed she did it. You had to,” Lupe spits between tense breaths. “I know she didn’t tell you she did. You’d see right through it. She’s a crummy liar and she can’t stitch worth a damn. You’re full of shit.”  
  
Negan guffaws, his fingertips digging into the skin at her hips. “Darlin’ you’re starting to get me real fucking excited. I like the way you dirty-talk.” His lips brush the shell of her ear, his tone cold and serious, “Why the fuck should I believe you?”  
  
Lupe sucks in air through grit teeth to form the words. “She didn’t help me because she was entirely fucking unconscious. You knocked her out.” She pushes herself off of his shoulder by using her hold on his jacket. Glaring, she rasps through her agony, “So fuck your infirmary, fuck your debt,” she rips her hands away from him, chin quivering as she snarls, "and fuck you!”  
  
Negan chuckles darkly at the sight of her windswept rage. “Alright, say I believe you then. All this debt is just yours to carry.” She isn’t looking at him, she’s gazing off into nothing. He reaches up a hand and instead of letting him touch her, her eyes instantly meet his. He smiles. “You know exactly how you can wipe it away.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m doing it. Indentured servitude. Like the white god intended,” she snaps with a reproachful glare.  
  
Negan chuckles and leans his chin in his palm. “Maybe so.” His smile seems too carefree, properly charmed by her. “You know, you haven’t so much as touched any of my men after the last incident. I thought I’d have to threaten to punish your sister if another Savior went down.” He grins. “I’m almost convinced this is what might be considered good behavior for you.”  
  
“Get fucked,” she growls.  
  
“I’m tryin’.” He winks. She pulls away, disgusted, but he stops her again by her hips, hooking his thumbs in her bet loops. She wants to step back, but he leans in and yanks her closer. “Now, now, don’t get coy. If you’re not going to agree to be my wife, then perhaps you’d be interested in a little business venture I’ve been contemplating.”  
  
She sighs, trying to prepare herself through shuddering breaths. “Yes?”  
  
He grins wide at her restraint. “I’ve been thinking that you’re right about my men not knowing how to control themselves. I’m thinking it might be safer if we decided to bring back the worlds oldest and greatest profession.” He nods to her, sounding triumphant. She frowns at him hard. “It could be filled with all sorts of carnal delights denied to my men since even before they lived in this hell. It could satiate these urges, keep people safe.”  
  
“So you want to create sex worker positions?” Lupe’s eyes narrow dangerously, her tone not even within an inch of playing.  
  
Negan shrugs. “Plenty of people out there, young entrepreneurs, who are eager to earn something for themselves.” He eyes Lupe in a very specific way, a threat gleaming in his deep and pitiless stare. “Some might even jump at the chance to earn extra points or safety for their vulnerable families.”  
  
Lupe’s jaw immediately hardens. “If you want to bluster and bull shit your way through the end of the world, fine. But if you want to interact with me, I’m taking it at face value. Every time you open your mouth, you show me exactly who you are. If you want my fucking loyalty Negan, earn it,” she snaps. She isn’t going to chomp on his bait, not in the way he wants. “To start, will these ‘young entrepreneurs’ be fairly compensated with healthcare along with their points? Similar to what your wives get, as a comparison between jobs?” she asks pointedly.  
  
Negan goes to open his mouth, but she bites her words out faster.  
  
“Will they be guaranteed protection from your men’s abuse — no matter what ‘carnal delights’ they may have?” Her voice goes hard and her eyes alight with a noxious and scathing fury. This is not something she is remotely in the realm of fucking around about. “Will everything be consensual? You know that brains don’t stop developing well into a person’s twenties? So still developing people and children can’t consent in these situations. Will you personally make sure it’s all above board? Will they be safe, Negan? Do you even actually care?” Her voice rises to an unhealthy level and shakes with rage, “Or will they just be fuck dumpsters for the men you can’t control? The ones who should be put down! Just like their rabid master!”  
  
Negan’s off the table like a shot. She’s quick to respond, despite the pang in her stomach that makes her twitch to the right. Negan presses in on her, hovering dangerously as she backs away.  
  
His statement is pitiless. “The laws you thought protected you don’t apply any longer. I am the law.”  
  
“I was never under the illusion that laws protected me, Judge Dredd.” She looks him square in the face, a distorted exhaustion and sorrow lacing her features. “The thing is, if laws and rules were all that ever kept you from raping children and bashing people’s faces in with bats, then it was never about the laws.”  
  
Tears well in her eyes. Her voice shakes as she bites out, “You are weak and broken. So is this entire place, and any future with you in it.” Her face pinches in pain as she shakes her head, looking away like he just somehow hurt her worse than carving his entire name into her body.  
  
“When you come back with a better proposal for sex workers, I might consider it.” She clicks her tongue at him reproachfully. “You’re just a selfish bully Negan. And like all your forefathers that came before you in their rape victims, you’re just as fucking pathetic too.” She turns away from him and hobbles away.  
  
Indignant rage burns Negan straight through his veins. His eyes follow after her like he might take a bite out of her. Her words were scathing and disappointed, they burned a distorted anger in him and birthed something bleak. He growls deeply in his chest, trying to tear that sensation out of its place. He stalks after her. He knows she hears his footfalls, fears them, but she doesn’t turn around.  
  
He wants to rile her into action. Force her into making a choice. It would only get worse and worse for her if she kept defying him. He grits his teeth, Lucille spinning in his hand. Raising the bat, he cracks her across the back of her skull with the knob end and she immediately crumples to the ground. He stands over her prone form, his lungs heaving for air, and that beast inside of him purrs back into its place.  
  
A group of his men stand in a nearby doorway, murmuring excitedly between themselves. He looks over his shoulder at the group and barks, “Get her in the cells, now!”  
  
The men all jump into action and carry her down into the dungeon with Negan on their heels. Once she’s on the floor, he slams the door and locks it. He dismisses his men and storms out of The Sanctuary in a huff.  



	8. Chapter 8

  
Negan needs to take a walk before he does something he’ll surely regret. He doesn’t know how many times he stalked around the grounds. He had his radio on his belt and kept in contact to make decisions, but he outright refused to be around people. He just can’t kick the irritation that woman causes in him. Stoking some kind of noxious greek fire that burns him from head to toe and won’t stop. He can’t stamp it out. He isn’t sure he wants to. He isn’t sure it matters. He is sure he wants her though.  
  
He’d always been a selfish egotistical shit. It worked out in the old world and he had no reason to start doubting himself now. It had gotten all of them this far. His new toy is just exceedingly ignorant as to what it takes to control people in large groups. To fashion a society from a walking hormone sludge. She has no idea the kind of place this used to be before he stepped into the leader position. He needs to be this way because the world is this way, because humans are this way. He shakes his head, directing himself back towards the building. He could definitely use a drink.  
  
Negan makes it to the second level and pauses at the entryway to the floor. He chews on his lip a bit. His walk had gotten a lot of the itching beneath his skin to go away. He still probably shouldn’t have smacked her around out in the open like that without it being an official proceeding. The Saviors could test the limits of his more flexible rules. From time to time, he may allow it for the greater good, but he tries his best to be the most stringent. He felt the need to go check in on the little sister. She was probably confused when the older one didn’t make it back from her shift.  
  
He sighs and rubs his eyes. He reaches out and pushes the doors open, allowing his face to remain impassive, if slightly disgruntled. He wants to be left alone in this little task. It’s later at night, far past dinner. Day shifts had been over a while and people liked to stay in their spaces. They might group up in their little fox holes, have whatever good time might be left in this world. So walking down the halls is a relatively quiet and timid experience.  
  
He crosses by the room once or twice, still wrapped inside his own head. Trying to figure out what the hell these two sisters are getting him into. He has to admit, their recommendations on some extra scores had benefitted the whole Sanctuary. And the older sister’s suggestions for his fake brothel threat might actually be worthwhile. He wasn’t a complete monster. He didn’t want his people to be hurt. He just wanted to use it as leverage. He didn’t realize she’d have such a vehement clarity about it.  
  
Negan finally gets back to their door and steps up to it, knocking ‘shave and a haircut’ like usual. He waits with his standard grin on his face. There’s no response. He liked to earn his reputation with consistency. He always killed one person in each new group he came across to scare them into submission, sometimes it took more than one. He liked to whistle the same little tune. He was strict with the rules. No stealing. No cheating. Women and children weren’t there to be hurt. His property was his, and it was all. He also always knocked with ‘shave a haircut.’ People used it to scare their friends shitless. He finds that a bit amusing, but it never changed how serious people took it. He knocks again. Harder.  
  
When there is still no response, he leans into the door jamb and his voice is sweet as honey, but laced with a sting. “Now lil’Nita, I know you’re not ignoring me. Are you? Why don’t you come on over and open the door? We’ve gotta talk.”  
  
Silence. He figures she might be stubborn enough to keep up her little pissing party about what he’d done to her sister the last time. Whenever he enters a room she’s in, she leaves before she has to kneel. Sometimes he’d stroll right on through a room he needed to be in, just to follow and see what she was up to. Her sister taught her well though. She was always out of sight by the time he caught up. He can very easily see her becoming the next Arat in his company. Smart. Decisive. Quick on her feet. Fearless. He remembered she tagged a few of his men back in that clearing. It might have been him if he’d leaned out the same time as Jordan.  
  
“Open this door.” His statement slides along like ice. “I won’t ask again.”  
  
No response. He holds in his growl and goes to turn the knob. When he discovers it’s locked, he laughs, heartfelt with pure irritation. He pulls the one and only skeleton key out of his pocket and twists the lock without a problem. He turns the knob and pushes. The door barely budges.  
  
Several things could have happened. He believes that the little sister could hate him enough to lodge something to block the door. The other, more emergent supposition, is that she somehow passed out and her body currently blocks it. He shoves again, but nothing happens. He could admit he was a virile and robust asshole, so thinking he couldn’t shove a hundred-fifty pound girl’s body out of the way of the door has him in slight disbelief. That’s when something like a panic sets in. He realizes that perhaps, it isn’t her body.  
  
“Fuck!” Negan snarls and then rams the door with his shoulder. He grabs his radio. “Arat, I need you on level two living quarters immediately. Be ready to blow some door hinges.” He shoves the little plastic piece of junk back in his pocket. Arat’s muffled confirmation comes through the speaker as he goes back to ramming the door.  
  
It’s barely budging open, just a few inches. He presses against it to look in, and confirms his worst suspicion. A Saviors body is wedged against the door and there’s blood smeared over mushed bedsheets, splattered on walls, soaked into furniture, everything.  
  
“Fuck! …Nita!” Negan roars, slamming against the wood. He hears the hallway bustle with activity, starting with the stairwell doors. He backs up to the wall adjacent and sprints at the wood ramming himself against it. The door busts away from the top hinge with a spray of wood bits. It cracks in half, down along a splintered line to the bottom, but doesn’t cave. Negan regains stability and kicks at the remaining pieces before yanking them out, now with the help of Arat by his side.  
  
“Blood —!” Arat chokes out as Negan stomps his way in, using the body of his Savior as a stepping stool.  
  
The sight crushes him. The same group of men that had helped him carry her sister’s body down to the cells lay sprawled about the room. They’re all in different unsettling states. Some, Negan is sure were already dead, with no chance of reanimating. Others might still be alive enough, and boy did he have a plan for them.  
  
“Nita…” Negan whispers, seeing her toes sticking out from the other side of her sister’s bed. He rushes over and finds her crumpled body on the floor. Her shirt is torn and her lower half is bare. She’s smattered with blood and bruises along nearly every inch of her body. One particular gash along the side of her head looks especially dangerous. “Shit!” he rasps and carefully gets down by her side.  
  
“Don’t move her!” Arat shouts, stumbling over her compatriots’ bodies like they are no more than garbage bags in the street. She gets behind Negan, her breaths short and hard. “That head injury looks bad. We should call for Carson.”  
  
Negan’s bites out his reply. “We can’t even get her up on the goddamn bed?!”  
  
He looks up at Arat and sees something he’s never seen on her face before. She stares at the girl, eyes wide and her lips pressing into a tight downward curl. Her brows knit in what Negan could only guess is concern. He is a little spooked at that. He knows she has a mother, but he didn’t realize Arat really had feelings.  
  
“Radio for Carson,” he demands, gravelly and irritated.  
  
The frown deepens and she looks at Negan. “You radio Carson!” She snaps and moves him out of the way. “I have some experience at least!” She yanks a blanket off the bed and covers the little sister’s torso and legs.  
  
Taken aback, Negan sits on the bed and does exactly as he is told. Arat is delicately manipulating the little sister’s form, with a precision Negan has never seen her use in kindness. The Saviors escorting the doc radio in when they’re approaching the second level.  
  
A deeply gargling gasp echoes through the room. Negan hears Arat’s voice as he stares at the little sister and prays she didn’t turn. “Don’t move! You have a head injury and many others. We’re waiting on Doctor Carson. I’m right here, it’s okay, you can be scared, I’m right here. We’ll take care of you, okay?”  
  
Negan gapes at Arat who never speaks more than three words at a time if she can help it. She’s bent over this child so dedicatedly, and he imagines her before all of this. She could have worked in a battlefield as a medic or in the back of an ambulance as an EMT. She probably helped scared children after accidents.  
  
The little sister’s eyes blinked wide, deep brown, scanning the room, disjointedly, looking for more threats. Her eyes whirl around the room until something sticks.  
  
“You!” she shouts staring directly at Negan. “You did this! You — You encouraged them!” She screams, shrill and ripping through her vocal cords, shaking the entire floor into stunned silence. “They wanted to get payback on my sister! They wanted to humiliate her! Hurt her for defying you!” She edges into a shriek, “They said they wanted what they were due!”  
  
She huffs and Arat tries to calm her, coax her back into a careful breathing pattern. She shakes her head away from those delicate fingers, trying to glare at Negan while her eyes blink unevenly. “If I —,” her breathing becomes labored and she looks suddenly so exhausted, half her glare dragging down, “— if I die,” she swallows, the words coming out slurred, “my sister is going to fucking kill you…"  
  
She smiles then, even though her eyes glaze gently into the distance. A beaming half smile forms and a gentle laugh bubbles out her lips. “A mí la muerte me pela los dientes.” She sniffles and shakes, her eyes gently closing. Her last words are a whisper, “Mea culpa, hermana.”  
  
Her body goes limp just as Doctor Carson rushes through the door. Arat and Carson get Negan to step back. Shortly after, Carson approves her to be moved directly into the infirmary. He may have been a bit of a creep in the past, but he did at least do his fucking job well. Arat went to pick Alma up, but Negan stops her.  
  
He scoops up the sister, followed out by Carson and Arat. He looks to her. “We don’t tell Dita until her sister is stabilized. Carson needs to work. Leave her in the cells for her own fucking protection.” Arat looks at him like he’s a real bastard, but he can’t care. He continues without acknowledging her disapproval, “If anyone in that room is dead and comes back, put them on the fence, full display. If any of them are alive,” he snarls menacingly as the girl bleeds in his arms, “I want them ready for me.”  
  
With one last protective glance at the girl, Arat nods and then turns back to the room. Carson speaks into his radio, getting the Infirmary prepped as they run through hallways and down stairs. Negan keeps the little sister tight against his chest as two thoughts haunt him.  
  
This girl can’t die.  
  
This is absolutely his fault.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there are feEELINGS

Lupe wakes up in the bleak darkness of the cells. She doesn’t know how long she’s been down there, but she imagines she really crossed a line this time. The Sanctuary is infecting her. Turning her into something even worse than what she used to be outside of it. She might have been a bit feral and quick to kill out in the woods. Inside these walls, she was turning vindictive, vacant, cruel. Negan’s surely leaping for joy at her demise.  
  
She sat in the darkness for hours. She hated the dark, but she wasn’t afraid of it. She actually preferred night time over daytime as her natural circadian adjustment. She just didn’t like this artificial darkness. She’d rather be stuck in a pitch black forest than cramped in this tiny little cell that seemed like an endless void. It was much worse without the music too. She tended to like some of the songs they tried to use to torture people. She didn’t understand why they would think any music would be torture at all. She’d listen to Kid Rock again if it meant hearing music. At the end of the world, what sort of luxury could compare?  
  
Eventually the door cracks open and peels the shadows from Lupe. She closes her eyes against the harsh light. Blinking carefully, her eye lids are stuck together with sleep, tears, and the fog of being forcibly rendered unconscious. There’s a backlit outline, but the shadowed figure is slim with lovely springy hair on top. Lupe lets a small smile escape her pursed lips and huffs out a bit of laughter.  
  
Arat kneels in front of her and the lighting changes. Lupe can clearly see her most recent and odd won friend is trying to hold back her distress.  
  
“Where is she?” Lupe scrambles immediately to her feet. Arat has to help her as she wobbles.  
  
“Infirmary,” Arat replies bitingly. She shakes her head softly. “You want me to explain it or Carson?”  
  
“Fuck Carson,” Lupe snarls. “Tell me, please,” she begs.  
  
Arat nods and relays what happened from the time she stumbled upon Negan kicking down her sister’s door and found it chock full of slaughtered Saviors. Lupe feels slightly proud of Alma for doing what she could. They had both experienced moments in the past when they were frozen with fear. Usually the other had to help them out. Lupe hates herself for not being there for her sister. Her preference would always be to kill, but Lupe would rather suffer with Alma than have her suffer alone.  
  
Arat continues, “She fought back and sustained some serious injuries. She has a dislocated shoulder, several fractures which vary in severity, on her left arm, right wrist, her left shin, left ankle, and several of her ribs. She has a real big gash on her head and a dent in her skull.” Arat sighs. “Carson did a rape examination too."  
  
Lupe’s stomach turns, both because it had to happen and that Carson was the one to do it.  
  
“I tried to volunteer, blew my cover,” Arat admits, “but Negan insisted it be Carson since he’d been in practice more since the turn. Negan stayed in the room to make sure Carson wasn’t pulling anything. Like he’d know. Asshole…”  
  
For whatever twisted reason, Lupe has to believe Negan wouldn’t let anything bad happen to Alma on that exam table.  
  
“There was bruising around her pelvic area and vulva, but there was no blood or semen inside her,” Arat says and her voice trembles. “Carson couldn’t conclusively say she was penetrated, but attempts were made.”  
  
All of it was still Negan’s fault and Lupe would forever hold him accountable for her sister’s suffering.  
  
“Negan killed all of them,” Arat mutters. “After some of them regained consciousness he rounded them up. He actually woke the community up in the middle of the night to make them watch. He tied them to chairs in the warehouse by the incinerator and tortured the ever living shit out of them for a few hours. Smashing limbs to mush. The Iron, so much of the Iron. In front of everyone…” Her breaths shake on the exhale.  
  
When Arat and Lupe get to the infirmary, Lupe pushes off and sprints through the door. Her sister lays in the hospital bed, intubated, with a white bandage around her head. Scrapes and bruises, cleaned and some covered, litter what Lupe could see of Alma’s skin. Most of her torso and lower half are covered by blankets. Alma’s hooked up to an IV and is just so completely still.  
  
“No — no — mi Alma, mi corazón — lo siento!” Lupe curls over the hospital bed, and eventually slides to an unsteady crouch. Gripping her sister hands, she’s careful of the bruised and stitched knuckles that prove Alma put up such a good fight. “Esta bien. Eres tan fuerte,” Lupe murmurs, kissing Alma’s hand and looking up at her face. Aching, straining fingers stroke the non bruised part of her jaw. “Estoy muy orgulloso.”  
  
“I’m genuinely sorry this happened…”  
  
Lupe’s sobs immediately cease. She does her best not to grip Alma’s healing fingers, and instead fists her hand into the sheets. She shakily turns and sees Negan, sitting on the other side of the room. He looks absolutely terrible. He’s covered in blood and slumps in his chair, exhausted. There’s a look of miserable resignation creeping along his features, edged with a jagged fury. She doesn’t say a word as she glares at him, holding Alma’s hand and digging her nails into the fabric at her side.  
  
He sits forward in the dim room, elbows on knees. Lupe twitches further from him, and she hears shifting. She looks over her shoulder and tries not to feel shame with so many witnesses to her grief. Arat’s behind her, looking down at the floor. Flanking the door, another two nameless soldiers have half glazed expressions on their faces, completely impassive. Simon is the last, leaning near the entrance to Carlson’s office right next to Negan. That piece of mustachioed shit has that same fuck-all smile on his face.  
  
“The men who did this were severely punished,” Negan explains. “Your sister was conscious for a while.” He swallows, actually having trouble looking Lupe in the eye. “Most of it was Spanish, but I recognized something of what she said. It was ‘mea culpa.’” Lupe’s face twists in an abrupt grief. She bites into her lower lip as Negan continues, somber, “I know what that means from mass back when I was a kid… It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t yours…” He exhales deeply. “It was mine.”  
  
“You’re goddamn right it is!” Lupe growls through a sob.  
  
Negan nods, his hands up and letting his Saviors know it’s alright. “I know you hate me and you have every reason to.” He leans back in his chair and sighs. “I even hate to say it,” he swallows heavily, “but I don’t know if we can sustain her like this.”  
  
There isn’t a single sound in the room aside from the steady tracking of Alma’s heartbeat. Lupe doesn’t so much as flinch.  
  
“What?” she barks, tinged with snarling disbelief.  
  
“The Sanctuary doesn’t have sufficient enough power to keep her machines running like this. We might not have enough bandages or antibiotics. If she doesn’t wake up soon, I’m afraid we’ll have to end her —,”  
  
The room erupts into movement before Negan can finish his sentence. Lupe grabs the empty IV pole situated by the medicine chest opposite her sister’s bed. She swings it around and smacks one of the Saviors right in the face, knocking him out. Another raises his gun. Incensed by the audacity to pull such a weapon in a fucking hospital room, Lupe knocks it out of his hand and it slides under her sister’s bed. Jamming the feet of the pole into his stomach, she slams him up against the infirmary room door. His head whacks against the window so hard it leaves a dent with splintering cracks along the reinforced glass.  
  
Simon goes at her about the same time Lupe is already whirling around. Silent as a nun, she swings the full weight of the IV pole with her enraged momentum. He’s reaching for her, knife in his hand, but she side steps with her twirl, and slams the metal pole against the ridge of his back so hard the pole snaps clean in two. Simon yelps as he crumples to the floor. Then Lupe is there, right in front of Negan. The snapped edge of the metal pole jabs into his neck, right into his jugular. She leans nearly her entire weight into it with a snarl.  
  
Arat stands in the corner, frozen next to Alma’s bed and unharmed by the attack. The guy who got smacked with the IV pole first clambers to his feet and holds out a gun. Arat mimics the movement, but without much heart. Simon tries to stumble up, leaning on the wall, writhing and grimacing. Lupe stands there, undeterred.  
  
“Think about this now — about her.” Negan swallows and the press of the metal bites into his skin. He has his hands wrapped around the slick pole, trying to keep her from skewering him. “She needs you.”  
  
Lupe grits her teeth, her eyes flaring wildly. Incensed, she screeches at him, “Not if you kill her!”  
  
Negan sighs. “The cost —“  
  
Lupe jabs him harder, flinging him back in the chair and against the wall as he tries to stop himself from getting dead. The metal doesn’t go in deep, but a wetness creeps down his neck and onto his shirt. It hurts like a mother fucker.  
  
She twists the pole slightly to get Negan’s attention. “Look at me!” she growls and Negan meets her eyes. The bodies around her shift while guns cock. Lupe’s face cringes with sorrow. She bites her lip and tries to stop herself from throwing up. She nods at him slowly, working her way up to forcing the words out.  
  
Her voice, whisper soft, asks, “You want an arrangement?” Her teeth clicked shut, right on the edge of control. Lupe jerks her head to the side, eyes frantic and desperate. She looks like an animal caught in a trap and right about to bite off its own leg.  
  
Lupe pulls back on the metal piece, but does not dislodge it. She continues, words breathed out on glass, soft enough to sound like she was begging, “Negan, if you keep her alive, you’ll not only keep your life, but,” she licks her lips and tastes bile as tears fall, but her face doesn’t show the grief in any other way, “you’ll have mine too.”  
  
Her breathing stutters in her chest, but she stares at him, more serious than she’d ever been in her entire life. “I’ll let you live and make sure you’re the happiest man alive…” Negan eyes Lupe, pained, suspicious, and ravenous. Lupe nods and can’t stop, trying to convince herself. “I’m yours, as long as she lives...”  
  
Negan stares at the girl on the bed. The fact is, cost isn’t horrendous, it’s just impractical. They stabbed people in the head for less. But if he could finally get the older sister to stop with the bullshit and toe the line, it might be worth it. He looks around carefully at his twitching men. Simon’s staring at the older sister like he might want to tear out her throat. Arat just looks sad as she holds her gun. Negan sighs. He looks back up at the older sister. She’s barely holding it together. He nods once. “I agree.”  
  
The pole drops from her hands and clatters to the floor the second the words leave his lips. Simon tackles her, but it doesn’t take much effort. Lupe was already halfway to the ground with a sob anyway.  
  
“Hey!” Negan shouts and Simon pauses in his efforts to forcibly pin her sobbing form to the floor. He glares at Simon who’s looking up at him with a distinct confusion. Negan leans forward in his chair, voice edging deadly low into a snarl, “Get your hands off my fucking wife.”  
  
Carson comes out of his office now that the threatening is done. He looks around at the disarray, honestly glad his patient seems completely undisturbed. He glances down at Negan and sees the small bleeding hole in his neck. “We should get that checked.” He reaches out for Negan, but the man bats the doctor’s hands away.  
  
The sound of Lupe’s crying is too much for Negan to bear. He’s heard tears like that after Lucille was awash with blood. They never affected him like hers do. He kneels down and scoops her up into his arms. She fights him, weakly, all of her energy funneled into her grief.  
  
Arat steps up. “Let me help her get situated upstairs. The wives will be there.” She reaches out her arms. “You should get patched.”  
  
Negan scowls, but carefully deposits her into Arat’s grasp. He nods to her. “I’ll be up for her soon,” he says in a way that sounds like a demand. Arat’s face is impassive, but she nods and leaves the infirmary with a sobbing lump in her arms.  
  
After they’re well enough away from the Infirmary, Lupe finally speaks, “You — can — p-p-put — me — down,” she mutters between heaving tears. “I-I-I can — walk.”  
  
Arat slowly lowers her to the ground so she can get her bearings. Lupe leans into her heavily, grief still twisting her features into a macabre sorrow.  
  
Arat carefully folds her hands over Lupe’s round cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”  
  
Lupe nods into the warmth of her skin, her tears falling faster than Arat can brush them away. “She didn’t deserve this…” her voice crackles in despair.  
  
Arat helps Lupe take a few tentative steps as she cries. “Neither of you do,” she grumbles. “You shouldn’t have had to do it.”  
  
Lupe glares up at Arat. “Was I supposed to let her die?!”  
  
Arat bites her cheek in frustration and shakes her head. “Not what I meant. I’m sorry.” She sighs as she gets Lupe to the stairs and starts their way to the top floor. Arat wasn’t going to take her past their old room until it got cleaned up. It was still covered in blood and completely disheveled. “I meant that he wasn’t the only option. I don’t know if he would have kept her alive, but —,” Arat chokes on the words.  
  
Lupe frowns. “But what?”  
  
Arat’s glance is stilted. “I could have asked you to be mine. I should have, the first time I saw you come out the back of that truck… like I wanted. I coulda taken in you and your sister and protected you.”  
  
Lupe shakes her head at the implication. She’s completely flummoxed. Arat saw her and wanted her. She would have stepped up, intervened, and kept them safe. As the family of a Savior, Lupe and Alma could have been out of danger. Not to mention the opportunity to wake up to Arat everyday. Lupe almost smiles, thinking about how much better that could have been than what she’s stuck with now.  
  
“Thank you,” she says, whisper soft. Arat seems more dejected. “I mean it, thank you. I would have —,” Lupe swallows the words, afraid to look at Arat and see the tenderness lingering there. “I would have liked that.” She dares to look over anyway. Arat watches her out of the corner of her eye too. Lupe smiles in a pained way and Arat easily reflects it. Lupe lets out a shattering sigh. Reality is what it is. “We both know Negan wouldn’t have let you…” Arat gives a jilted nod with a hardened jaw.  
  
They reach Negan’s floor, feeling like it’s a completely different planet where gravity is worse. Arat shows her to the empty rooms and tells her she can pick one. Lupe chooses the least furnished one. It only has a bed, a small desk, and some empty bookshelves.  
  
Lupe stares around the sparse space, it looks far fuller than she feels. The room is twice the size of what Lupe shared with Alma, but not enormous. She could likely fill it with all sorts of things until her sister gets better. She wonders if Negan will let Alma stay in there with her. She isn’t sure she can handle anything else.  
  
“I can go and gather your things,” Arat blurts.  
  
Lupe wanders over to the bed and sits down on it. It mushes under her weight comfortably, like one of those fancy foam mattresses. She shakes her head. “Not yet. I can’t — I don’t —,” she can’t finish the sentence. Arat seems to get it. She joins her on the bed and they carefully clasp their hands. “Do you think I can have her stuff brought up too? They wouldn’t take it or destroy it, would they?”  
  
Arat squeezes her. “I don’t think Negan would allow that. He agreed to this and he keeps his word.”  
  
Lupe shakes her head harder and bites her lip. She spits, “He didn’t. He doesn’t! He said they don’t hurt women and children,” she hiccups. “My sister was both! She didn’t deserve this!”  
  
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” Arat wraps an arm around her.  
  
Lupe nods into the embrace and a rough exhale shakes out. She looks up at Arat’s face, eyes frantic and searching, but she doesn’t ask a question. “I know I can do this, but I hate it.”  
  
Arat’s smile crinkles beneath sad eyes. She nods. “I know what you mean…”  
  
Lupe starts to cry and Arat would be a liar if she said she didn’t also tear up. They lean in close and press their foreheads together. Arat gives Lupe the space she needs to grieve and the comfort to get through it.  
  
A few moments later there’s a soft knock on the door. Lupe jolts and Arat squeezes her tight. “It’s probably the wives. They’re actually really kind and will want to help.” She sighs heavily. “Negan has his… preferences. They’ll just want to be here for you.”  
  
Lupe nods. Arat gets up to open the door and four women walk in. They’re done up nicely, wearing tight black dresses, their hair and skin glow and look silky soft. A tall one, with umber skin and bright red curly hair smiles, but it twitches sadly. A shorter one, wispy, pink, with a dark brown bob, clings to a skinny Asian woman with long, straight blonde hair. Both nod and try to smile too. Another one with snowy white skin and ruby red lips stands in the center, frowning. Lupe would have thought she walked out of a fairy tale, but her long black hair was done up in obscenely voluminous curls atop her head. She doesn’t look angry, she just looks serious and a little bit Jersey.  
  
“I’m Frankie,” Jersey says first and Lupe isn’t surprised. “I’ve been here the longest. I’ll get you whatever you need baby, okay?”  
  
“I’m Tanya,” the woman with fire engine red curls speaks next. “I used to be a massage therapist, I’m real good at it.” She grins, lacing stiff fingers together. “I make some bath soaps and oils too. I’m your girl if you ever need help relaxing.”  
  
The wispy one with a bob follows, “I’m Amber.” She smiles only halfway, cautious. “If you ever want to talk, I used to be a social worker. I have some experience with trauma and I still take confidentiality seriously.”  
  
The blonde gives a short stilted wave. “I’m Lisa. I was a stay at home parent before all this.” She swallows heavily, eyes watering though she still tries to keep her smile. “I got a lot of weird skills that don’t always pertain to surviving here, but, if you need some help taking care of yourself for a while, I’m here —,” she motions around to the women gathered, “we’re all here for you.”  
  
Lupe looks around and gives the group the only smile she can muster, a weak one. She holds no animosity towards them. She understands exactly why they are in this position. Negan has something they needed so he blackmails them for sex and a really twisted devotion. She knows they are doing what they can to survive. She would never fault them for it. She’d done the same. She’s doing the same. She respects the hell out of their strength.  
  
Frankie comes forward and helps Arat get Lupe to stand. “You’re Dita right?” Lupe just nods. “Very cool.” She grins and it’s sweet. “You think you can manage to get cleaned up?” Lupe shrugs. “We can help.” Frankie nods until Lupe eventually nods back.  
  
They take her into a spare room that was turned into a communal bath. There are two showers and two tubs that look like they were retrofitted in. They have several sinks and some full walled toilet stalls, like a public bathroom, and lots of random storage shelves all over the place. It’s homey and cute, with boutique-type over-stuffed furniture, and stylishly painted two-tone walls. Lupe still has tears running down her cheeks, sunk so deep into her grief she can barely move. The women gathered are under no false pretenses about their situation and aren’t trying to convince her of anything.  
  
Tanya is true to form and whips up a bath with silky bubbles and the smell of fresh honeysuckle. She massages Lupe’s hands and feet, even helping clean out the gunk from under her nails. She talked about her disabled mother and her ex-boyfriend Henry, who became a Savior after they arrived together. She was pursued by Negan, but rebuffed him kindly for a while. Her mother needed some accommodations that neither her or Henry could afford so she eventually approached Negan. Tanya told Lupe never she never had to be okay with what was happening at all. If it only mattered that Lupe survived, that was fine. She was shy and sweet, but kept things short. Her voice went shaky every time she said Henry’s name.  
  
Lisa helps wash and untangle Lupe’s long hair. She and her family came to the Sanctuary a couple years back. It is impossible to survive out there with the type of severe asthma she’d had since she was a kid. She lost her husband and her children to a bad flu that tore through the complex a few months after they arrived. She didn’t have any good options, almost felt like giving up, especially after losing her entire family. She offered herself as a Savior or a wife when she realized she no longer had her husband’s point intake to help pay for her medicine.  
  
Frankie scrubs her from head to toe with a soft wash cloth. She was no nonsense about all of it, but she was still caring and delicate with her touch. She toughed out her way from Jersey for a while, but things were rough in the beginning. She traveled with nearly her whole family since they all lived so close to one another. Unfortunately, some split off, some got lost, and even more died. Negan found her a couple months after he established himself and made his interest known. Her brother has heart problems and can’t work, so she did what she had to do.  
  
Amber sat with her and gently talks. She found the Sanctuary on her own after her camp had been torn apart by the undead. Said Negan approached her in order to have someone to talk to. After already being brutalized by others before, alone and terrified, she didn’t want to risk it at the Sanctuary, and accepted. She spoke about grief, but wasn’t pedantic, since Lupe had obviously had her fair share. She further explained Negan and the arrangement and answered questions. Amber said it was normal to struggle with adjusting. She emphasizes that it’s important that they take care of each other up here. They need to keep Negan happy, but that doesn’t mean they have to be unhappy.  
  
None of it feels like brainwashing to Lupe, more of a helpful warning. This circle of women are close, not just out of necessity, but out of integrity. She appreciates their advice. It will likely keep her alive.  
  
After the bath, Lupe is wrapped up in soft towels and doted on. After she is dried, buffed, massaged, and otherwise pampered, she’s about ready to die on the spot from all the lavish attention. She still feels like a stranger in her own skin. She’s grateful for all the effort though. They were gentle, kind, and funny. They don’t want her to be afraid, even though she very much is.  
  
“Which one?” Frankie asks.  
  
Lupe looks up, blank faced. They are in a different room now. She doesn’t remember getting there and she’s still crying. There is more over stuffed furniture and clothes lining the walls in racks. She squints and sniffles, “Huh?”  
  
Frankie shakes two draping pieces of fabric at her. She speaks slower, drawn out with faux irritation, “Which one?”  
  
Dresses. Black dresses.  
  
Lupe frowns. “I need something loose.”  
  
“You got a great figure though!” Amber chimes in.  
  
Lupe gives her a weak smile and shakes her head. “Thank you. It’s not the figure that’s the problem,” she chuckles, but it’s an empty sound like shaking cotton balls in a coke can. “I’ve got —,” choking on the words, her hand grips the towel covering her stomach.  
  
The girls all nod and Frankie goes rummaging around in the closet some more. She pulls out something else and wanders over, teetering on spiky heels. “I’ve got something…” she mutters and shakes another piece of fabric out as she gazes at it. “Real soft, so it won’t bother you and it’s very flowy. Kind of like one a’them Roman dresses.” She drapes it across her own body. It did look very silky. It’s slightly shiny and only has one shoulder that’s just a braided strap of material.  
  
“It’s fine.” Lupe nods and extends her hand. She doesn’t bother to put on any underwear and the only bra she would ever wear again is sports bra. Of which, evidently, Negan isn’t a fan of. But fuck him. She begs off heels since they hurt her too much to wear and accepts some flats. She also doesn’t bother with make up since she knows she’s going to be crying a lot for the foreseeable future.  
  
They get her in the dress and it’s comfortable enough. No one says a word about her hideous scars the entire time and she appreciates that. They did treat her so gently and carefully, she thought she might scream in relief. Lupe can’t believe that this world had done so much to all these women, yet their kindness was so tender with a wretched stranger like herself.  
  
Eventually the women peter out, wishing her good luck. Arat takes her back to her room and helps her scrawl her name with chalk on the door farthest from Negan’s. Lupe asks Arat to stay and the women returned to their position on the bed. Clasping hands with heads leaned in towards one another, they cry, sharing in a distinct grief.  
  
There’s a familiar knock on the door. Arat immediately stands up and goes to open it. Negan’s there, looking ominous. “I don’t think tonight —,”  
  
“Fuck off Arat,” Negan snarls. When Arat doesn’t move, he glares at her with a very deep and bleak anger. “Now.”  
  
Arat dares to take one last look at Lupe on the bed. She isn’t looking at either of them, her face turned towards the hands clasped in her lap. Lupe gives a single jilted nod. Arat sighs and immediately pushes past Negan in a huff. He chuckles darkly at her exit and steps inside. Lupe doesn’t look up, she can’t, but she hears the door snap shut behind him.  
  
“Hello wife…” Negan says with a lingering foreboding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and thERE HAPPens to bE MORE
> 
> also fun fact Alma is a name, but also a term of endearment. 'mi alma' is calling someone 'my soul' basically. So... have that to think about.


	10. Chapter 10

Lupe spent a full month as Negan’s wife. It wasn’t as miserable as she had hoped, but she still despised the fucker. Luckily for her, she had a thorough past with bullshitting her way through sexual encounters and felt zero guilt about it. Negan seemed happy enough. Still a raging, murderous asshole. He trailed her about every once in a while, showing her off like he did with all the wives. Especially during punishments where they were supposed to stand and watch on. Almost like they were there as proof someone could ‘love’ him after what he did. She hated that part almost as much as the other worst part, of having to act like she liked him, both in and out of bed.  
  
Alma was still comatose, intubated for air and nutrition, and hooked up in a spare office off of the infirmary. Lupe agreed to that, only if she got to hand pick the guard rotation. She would have done it herself, round the clock, like she was supposed to, but Negan decided her wifely duties were more important. Thankfully, there were a handful of Saviors who weren’t complete scum of the earth. Joey and Arat were her top picks. Arat cared about Alma in the time the three got to know one another. Joey was a good dude. He’d helped Lupe find clothes that fit before she was a wife. He also once had a sister Alma’s age and understood Lupe’s pain. There was a better chance of hearing that Alma woke up right away, because Joey and Arat would come directly to her instead of trying to sneak off to Negan first.  
  
There hadn’t been much activity on Alma’s end. She was never really reactive with Carson’s tests, despite showing signs of otherwise steady improvement. When Lupe would sit with her though, they’d get fluttering under her eye lids and sometimes she’d squeeze Lupe’s hands. Whenever Lupe wasn’t required by one of the wives, Negan himself, or smoking herself into an early death, she was with Alma. She talked to her, at her, through her. It didn’t matter. Lupe just knew Alma was still there. She was still holding on for something. Lupe would be that anchor point. Lupe would stay there for the rest of their lives, even if Alma never opened her eyes again. They just needed to be together.  
  
Lupe pulls on the hand rolled cigarette from Lozano. He was recently upgraded from Janitorial after Negan smoked one of his cigarettes. He got all mad, like she was keeping it a secret, but he stole it from Lupe in the first place, so fuck him. They became urgently popular with the Saviors and Negan couldn’t believe he hadn’t been trading in them before. Lozano got one of those specialty positions, happily tending to tobacco plants and managing the drying out of leaves and production of cigarettes. He used to do it with his family when he was younger on his uncle’s farm, so he had a distinct talent. She was proud of the team he put together and that he was able to take pride in his work again. Sometimes him and his wife, Hortencia, would toddle all the way up the stairs to deliver her a little box of their wares. Lupe had to ask one of the Saviors to keep an eye out and distract them, then they’d radio her. That way she could hurtle down all those floors so they wouldn’t have to climb.  
  
Lupe chuckles and exhales, staring at the sunset. Its warm light breaks through the trees, kissing the face of the Sanctuary, though the day is waning. Lupe couldn’t wait to share this with Alma. She loved shit like sunsets.  
  
The door to the roof opens and Tanya sticks her rubied head out. Her bright hair flashes around like a halo of flames as she looks around. Her eyes pop wide when she sees Lupe, sitting on the edge of the Sanctuary’s roof, her leg swinging off the ledge above the massive drop. “Lupe, what in the hell are you doing? Get down! A roof ledge? You tryin’a kill me?”  
  
Lupe swings back over the ledge so she can hop down onto the roof. “Sorry bebe,” Lupe mutters around the cigarette in her mouth. She walks past the expensive patio set and gently stubs out the cherry to save the rest for later. She puts it into the mint tin she uses as a cigarette case, tucking that in her dress’ pocket. She had to admit, Negan didn’t skimp on the clothes for his wives. He may ask for slinky, sexy, and shiny, but he didn’t force the women to wear a specific dress unless he found it just for her. He liked doing that for Tanya and Lupe to make them feel extra special. It was harder to find clothes for people who didn’t have standard proportions. Tanya is almost as tall as Negan. Lupe is fat and short. The rest could all manage to squeeze within a size or two of each other. Except Amber was a fucking rail, but she was an adorable fucking rail.  
  
Tanya’s big brown eyes widen nervously. “Negan is coming back from a run. He’ll want to see us after he showers.”  
  
Lupe pouts. “Damn, I could have finished my cigarette.”  
  
Tanya shakes her head, her tight coils flickering iridescent in the sunset. “Seems like there might be something going on. Saviors are on edge. Might be new scavengers in the area or somethin’. He gets real tense when new people come into his territory.”  
  
Lupe rolls her eyes. “If that’s not obvious,” she snickers as she swings an arm around Tanya’s waist. Tanya giggles against her too, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “You know that oil shit you made me has been fabulous for my skin and hair. Like, done wonders! I don’t think I even used products this good before the end of the world. You’d’ve put Lush out of business.”  
  
“Really?” Tanya smiles tightly, always so shy. “I always wanted to run my own business.”  
  
“Shit, you should! You can!” Lupe grins. “Have you asked Negan about selling in the market?”  
  
“I thought about it once.” The smile drops from her face. “I wanted my mom and Henry to help me. He used to help me with all of the stuff I made for my friends and family before. I just thought we’d work well together. He — he understood what I had to do. But Negan —,” she sniffles and Lupe pulls her closer.  
  
“Ah shit, I’m sorry, mi amor,” Lupe murmurs as they step through the door. “Maybe the wives could learn and help you. That way your mom can rest and you don’t have to worry about putting Henry or yourself in danger.”  
  
Tanya turns her reddened eyes towards Lupe as they started their way down stairs. “You think they’d do that for me?”  
  
Lupe shakes her head, admonishing Tanya with a look. “Hell yeah, of course we would.” She squeezes Tanya tighter. “And if Frankie doesn’t help, I’ll hold her down while Amber unteases her hair.”  
  
Tanya giggles furiously as they find their way to the common room. It’s a bit like a porn lounge. Lupe could tell Negan had control of decorating this space with all its leathers, dark woods, and deep maroons. It has a classic looking teak bar that takes up nearly the entire back wall. Frankie and Lisa are already pouring everybody shots to put up with whatever Negan’s mood is going to be. Tanya practically drags Lupe straight there.  
  
Amber reads on the couch, sitting unceremoniously in her cocktail dress, one leg hooked up on the top of the backrest the other on the floor. She doesn’t have to look pretty until Negan decides to show himself, so she gets comfortable. She snacks on almonds and is already sipping on her heavily alcoholic beverage through a straw.  
  
“Good read?” Lupe asks over her shoulder, trying to spot the title.  
  
“Depends on your definition of ‘good.’” Amber shrugs and pops another almond in her mouth.  
  
“Drinks on the house!” Frankie shouts with a smile that pinches her face in the cutest way. She starts handing out double shots. Tanya goes through two right quick.  
  
“I can’t have shots.” Lupe laughs x-ing her arms in front of her face. “I’ll fall asleep right on top of Negan if he chooses me tonight.”  
  
Lisa chuckles. “More for me. I prefer blackout fucks.” She downs the shots only slightly slower than Tanya, but with no less determination. Everyone laughs, sobers slightly, and secretly agrees.  
  
Amber snorts as she comes scooting around the table, sucking her drink dry. She puts her glass on the bar top and pushes it pointedly at Frankie. The honorary bartender rolls her eyes, but complies with a pursed lip grin, fixing Amber another.  
  
“Your loss I suppose,” Amber says to Lupe. “He might not notice if you’re on the bottom.” She snickers and pulls her shots closer.  
  
Lisa murmurs, “What I wouldn’t do for some weed though…” Everyone groans in arduous agreement.  
  
Chatter starts up and maintains in a friendly way for a while. There’s a sudden sharp three knocks on the door. Frowning, Lisa walks over and opens it up, revealing a pale, skinny, bobbed brunette with bird-like features. A blonde pixie stands there too, looking almost identical to the woman next to her, just smaller.  
  
“We, uh,” the brunette looks around, gaping, “we came back this morning with a new group. I’m Sherry and this is my baby sister Tina.” They both smile tentatively.  
  
Tina waves a wiggly fingered wave. “We were sent up here for you!”  
  
“For us?” Lisa asks. “Why?”  
  
“Sorry we’re still kind of — shocked, uh, culturally. This place is enormous.” Sherry laughs, looking around the room again. “My sister and I are manicurists. We’d been living out of our house and salon with my husband, Dwight, until the Saviors picked us up and brought us back.”  
  
Tina nods her head while eying her sister. “Your boss husband guy was like super stoked cause we still had a lot of our products and some of them might be ok to use still.”  
  
Lupe has a hard time looking at Tina. She’s young to Sherry like Alma is young to Lupe. Tina has an exuberance and a sweetness that somehow hasn’t been burned out of her yet. It breaks Lupe’s heart to think of the day it’ll come.  
  
“You do nails?!” Frankie screeches. She charges right at them, grabbing their free hands and tugging them inside. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it. I thought I’d die before I could get my nails done by a real professional again. Look at my cuticles! They’re shit!”    
  
Tina has a waist high rolling caboodle behind her. Sherry is already engaged with Frankie and Lisa about their favorite products. Amber helps the little sister get set up, asking questions since she’d never gotten a manicure before. Tanya and Lupe stay at the bar, refreshing their drinks for a little bit and then join in.  
  
Negan comes in not much later. The new comers are right in the middle of a group of the wives who all have hands stretched out while they test different nail polish colors. He doesn’t look especially pissed as he enters. He has enough of a mind to check out the two new people. He throws his body into eying them a bit before he strolls right over to the bar. He snuggles himself between Tanya and Lupe who ended back where they started after their polish trials.  
  
Tanya hands him a drink and Lupe takes the opportunity to take a step back from him. Negan immediately foils her plan by wrapping an arm around her and tugging her flush against him. His hand curves down to her hip and his fingers dig into her flesh to keep her there. “I feel like I’ve been missing you Dita.” He leans down and kisses her hard. She responds in kind until he pulls away, smiling.  
  
“Strange. Seems I see you everywhere I go.” She smiles thinly. “Perhaps it’s the cult mindset finally kicking in.” Lupe sips on her drink. Gently, she swishes the alcohol in her mouth to purge the taste of him.  
  
Lupe didn’t much appreciate how rough and aggressive Negan always liked to be with her. Negan pulled Tanya to his side, but he didn’t throw his weight around. He likes to save the really physical stuff for Lupe. She hates it. She couldn’t pretend she didn’t like a nice hard fuck sometimes, but Negan had a way to make a person lose themselves. And not in a good-orgasmic-way, more like a forced-dissociation-way.  
  
Tanya leans into Negan’s other side, rubbing his chest and subtly trying to take some of the attention off Lupe. Tanya just does her best to edge Negan away from goading her. All the wives see how he treats her. They do what they can to buffer.  
  
Negan kisses Tanya’s temple, then adjusts between them. He sighs heavily, pleased. “Blonde one is a cutie. Nice little Tinker Bell looking thing.”  
  
“She’s a kid. She looks like she’s twelve. Jesus,” Lupe spits. “I’ll bite your dick off myself if you keep looking at her like that.”  
  
Negan looks down at Lupe with a grin and jostles her into his side. “Awww,” he rumbles with sarcastic affection. “The brunette’s cute then.”  
  
“Married,” Tanya interjects before taking a sip of her drink.  
  
Negan’s lips flap on his dismissive exhale. “Is that supposed to stop me?” he laughs.  
  
Lupe smacks him in the stomach with a flat hand. He bent to the hit, delivered only slightly too hard. Eyeing her, he unwraps the women from his arms. “You getting fresh, Dita?” He licks his lips and bites into his lower one. “I know you like to get ridden hard and put away wet doll, but you’re getting me excited.”  
  
“You know if you kept your mouth shut, for just, like, one shitty minute, I might be able to fuck you without an ounce of disgust,” Lupe hisses.  
  
“Heh…” Negan grins at her. “Give us a mo’ Tanya.” She nods. Negan turns towards Lupe and leans an elbow on the edge of the bar, tilting his body as close to hers as he can get. Tanya gives Lupe a pointed look from over his shoulder like ‘he’s in a good mood, you better be cool.’  
  
Lupe sips on her drink and Negan just takes his time to take her in. He likes to do that. Stare at people disconcertingly. No one can really tell what the looks mean. He could be sizing up someone’s head for a batting range or thinking about fucking them over a desk. Negan is a simple, shitty man, but indiscernible.  
  
“You know, I think it turns me on more when I know you hate my guts.” He leans in and presses his lips against her neck. “Looking at me with disdain, but cummin’ on my cock anyway.”  
  
“Don’t,” Lupe snarls, anguish on the back of her tongue. He’s crossing a line into dangerous territory. “Don’t goad me about this arrangement. We both know what it is.”  
  
Negan pulls back. His gaze is cold above a grim smile. “I don’t like when you ruin the fantasy doll face.”  
  
“Then don’t push me all the fucking time,” she snaps.  
  
Negan chuckles, grunting as he swings his body around, wedging her against the bar, and caging her in with his arms and legs. He leans in, body pressing entirely into her. “I think you like it when I do though.” He rolls his hips against her.  
  
His mouth presses against hers. There’s tenderness in the touch curling up to cup her cheek. His mouth is soft as sin, humming into hers with his tongue. Her stomach burns and she hates when he touches her like this, with the facsimile of care. His hands run carefully along her curves, reveling in each inch.  
  
His fingers return to her cheek, but his thumb hooks under her jaw. His words are spoken into her lips, “I’d fuck you right here, right in front of everybody, if you said yes.”  
  
“Don’t…” She grits her teeth, trying to lean away. She hates this rule of his.  
  
“You remember, don’t you?” He pushes against her further, her back bending painfully against the wood. He murmurs into the spot just beneath her jaw bone, “You know the vows. Love. Honor. Obey.” His voice is husky in her ear. “Just say yes…” His hand is already moving up between her thighs.  
  
“Negan —,” she clamps her knees shut, her throat seizing just the same with despair.  
  
The door bursts open. Lupe has a tangled hold on Negan. One hand grips the wrist between her thighs and the other scrunches in the lapel of his jacket. She isn’t sure if she was holding him back or getting ready to pull him closer. On her worst days, sometimes she was desperate for someone to touch her like they meant it, didn’t matter what they did mean. Screw her shitty insecurities, damn her hormonal sludge, and this fucked up Stockholm shit.  
  
“What!?” Negan snarls, eyes shut tight and not even looking at who is behind him. He still has Lupe pinned, but they’re frozen. One of his hands grips the edge of the bar, white knuckled. The other slides from her skin to the hem of her dress, fisting in the flimsy material.  
  
“She’s awake!” Arat smiles, looking directly at Lupe.  
  
The decision is made. Lupe throws Negan off of her and starts running towards Arat, skidding out the door into her arms. They laugh and then bolt down the hallway, ignoring whatever was going on back in the room they abandoned.  
  
They both reach the Infirmary within record time. Joey is on guard, his large cheeks bouncing as he smiles and waves Lupe over with glee. She pulls Arat after her by her hand.  
  
Joey leans in. “She’s pretty lucid. Been asking for you. She seems to remember all that happened and is just really glad you’re okay.”  
  
Lupe’s face flushes, tears stream down her cheeks. She pushes through the door and sees her. Alma. The bruises are nearly all gone, but she still had the bandage around her head. Her eyes are open, but narrowed with exhaustion. She smiles bright, but weakly when she sees Lupe.  
  
Lupe launches herself over the bed much like the first time she saw her sister in it. She’s sobbing and kissing her sister’s hand, muttering Spanish nonsense, rapid fire. Alma strokes her sister’s head replying with beloved nothings in response.  
  
Lupe finally raises her head, capable of breathing and speaking again, “Pequeñita!”  
  
“Ho-la mayor-a,” Alma jokes in a bad English accent and they chuckle softly.  
  
“That scared the shit out of me…” Lupe mumbles, her head pressing into her sister’s knuckles. “You’ve been out for weeks.”  
  
“Wow,” Alma croaks. “Weeks? Really?” She shifts in the bed curiously and Lupe jumps up to help her. “It’s okay, I’m not a baby.”  
  
“You’re my baby sister, I take that seriously okay?” she sniffles with a strained smile through her tears.  
  
Alma chuckles. Sarcasm is heavy in her tone, “¿Neta? No me di cuenta.” She leans back into her bed with a smile and closes her eyes for a few beats. Her face screws up oddly in thought as she adjusts. Her eyes suddenly pop open. She sits right up with only a slight grimace and very closely looks Lupe up and down. “¿Que es —?” Her face screws up in confusion at the draping black material. “Why’re you—?” She huffs. She grimaces, putting a hand to her bandaged head.  
  
“Querida, por favor…” Lupe tries to still Alma’s shaking and shuffling. She looks back at Arat and Joey with a question they knew was coming. Neither of them told her. She looks back at Alma pleadingly. “Lo necesitaba —,”  
  
“No!” Alma snaps knowingly, but their small squabble is cut short by the sound of the door opening and shutting. By the look of incensed fury spreading across Alma’s face, Lupe can easily figure out who it is.  
  
“How’s the ol’sister-in-law looking, honey?” Negan’s voice cuts through the terrible silence and, true to form, makes it worse.  
  
Lupe drops her head into her sister’s lap.  
  
“¡Que te den!” Alma screeches. “¡Eres hijo de la grandísima mierda!!”  
  
Lupe is torn between trying to stop Alma and laughing. She waves and begs, “I had to baby, I had to — please — por favor — lo siento — please — escuchame,”  
  
“You don’t deserve to breathe near her, you smoldering fuck-pile!” Alma shouts, trying to get out bed. “I’ll fucking kill you if you ever put your hands on her again!”  
  
Negan couldn’t help but be a bit amused. The little sister is not so meek after all. She’s showing a lot of strength in the way she tries to get past her coddling sister and a frantic Doctor Carson. He chuckles softly and shakes his head. She is going to be thrilled to hear about sharing a floor with him and the rest of his wives.  
  
“¡Voy a cagar en tu boca!” Alma screams, thrashing against Lupe and slapping Carson’s hands away. “I’ll skin you alive you pasty piece of shiiiiihh—,”  
  
Negan looks up with a smile on his face, curious to how his wife finally got her sister to shut up. The smile drops off fast.  
  
“¿Cariño?” Lupe is holding onto Alma tightly as her sister goes silent and completely limp in her arms. “¿Mi Alma?”  
  
“¿¡Querida!?” Lupe’s voice grows increasingly frantic. Alma’s eyes roll behind her fluttering lids, her body suddenly starts getting stiff. Doctor Carlson tries to get them separated.  
  
“¿Querida, que es —?” Lupe is trying to keep her sister stable and get her back on the bed. Alma’s body starts thrashing. Carson scrabbles on top of Lupe, shouting at her, but she can’t hear a thing. Alma violently flails.  
   
“¡Pequeñita!” Lupe wails. She holds her sister in one arm and pauses to punch Carlson for trying to pull Alma away.  
  
“She’s seizing!” Carlson says, stumbling back as he holds his nose.  
  
“Get them apart!” Negan growls, stepping forward with the two men that followed him in from outside. He grabs onto his wife while the others try to unravel her grasping limbs.  
  
Someone grabs onto the back of her neck, clasping her braid. Lupe goes belligerent. “No!” She’s yanked back, but she surges against the grip, writhing in their arms like she’s slicked with oil.  
  
“¡Te quiero Alma!” Her screams are grating. She won’t let them get separated again. Everything always goes bad when they’re apart.  
  
Tears choke her words. “¡Te necessito!” She punches one of the men near Alma in the throat and he crumples against the wall.  
  
“¡Estoy aquí!” Lupe wails. The other grabs her forearm and she immediately twists his grip off of her. While she slipped his grasp, her hand slides down to his wrist and extends his arm. Slamming the outside of his elbow as hard as she can against the side of the bed, it results in an obscene pop. The man screams and doesn’t stop.  
  
She stomps on the foot of whoever tries to wrap their arms around her which results in a string of curses being growled in her ear.  
  
She can’t stop looking at Alma.  
  
“¡No te dejaré nuevamente!”  
  
Negan tears her away from the bed as Carlson does his best to pry them apart.  
  
“No! Forgive me! Don't leave me here!” Lupe’s screaming and wailing in his arms, her body thrashing wildly. “I'm right here! I won't go!”  
  
Negan drags Lupe out of the room with Arat following. Joey goes to go help the doc and the other guys that got injured. Negan flings Lupe on the floor of the hallway. She slides across the tile in her soft dress, rolling into a crouch before she launches herself back at the door. Arat’s able to grab her, murmuring in her ear.  
  
“Pequeñita!” Lupe screams at the top of her lungs. “No puedo vivir sin —!”  
  
Negan pistol whips her and Lupe immediately crumples in Arat’s arms. Arat looks up at him like he just kicked a puppy. He figures he just about did. He glares sharply at her.  
  
“Get her in a cell,” Negan snaps and starts walking back towards the infirmary. Arat doesn’t move right away. He turns sharply and roars, “Get her in the fucking cells! Lock her in there so the doc can work on her sister and not her fucking victims!”  
  
Arat glares at him tearily, but nods. She scoops up Lupe in her arms and starts stalking towards the cells.


	11. Chapter 11

Darkness enveloped Lupe again, even after she opens her eyes and realizes where she is. Her hands immediately flop onto her face and she starts sobbing. She has no idea how long it has been or what’s happening with Alma. She’s on her back, laying on the cold cement of a cell. She shivers as she cries, her whole body wracked with anxiety and sorrow. She despises herself. She has a complete inability to do the right thing. No matter what decision she made, it was always the wrong one. Everything was obfuscated by people so deep within their own traumas none of them could function. It was a tireless sludge of eat, fuck, kill, and hope that you sleep. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could survive. This world wasn’t real.  
  
There was nothing left.  
  
The door to the cell creaks open. Light floods her senses, but she sees three distinct shadows. Having spent so much time in the cells, she’s gotten used to discerning between the blobs. Once she saw his, she’s up on her feet, lunging at him.  
  
Hitting his chest, she grapples at his jacket, seizing his lapels as she leans into him. Her legs shake too much. She needs something, an anchor, a stalwart. Lupe doesn’t have anything else but Alma, but she doesn’t know what’s happening. Her tether feels snapped. She can barely stand. She can’t stop crying. Her voice shakes, there’s barely any breath left in her. “Please —,” Lupe chokes out, “— is she okay?”  
  
Negan wraps his arms around her, tight and warm. He held all her pieces in place just before they were meant to explode. “S’alright…” He mutters, but his mouth is tight and his voice is hoarse. It’s not alright.  
  
“Give us a sec…” he grunts to the other guards. He has her against his chest, curled around her protectively. Walking her back into the cell, he pulls the door closed behind them. She’s shaking in his arms and she doesn’t want to believe the reason why.  
  
He pulls on the chain that she’s too short to reach and a gentle warm bulb glows to life above them. She looks totally wrecked. Everything out of place. But she stares up at him and Negan has never seen such a pure beautiful hope before. What he wouldn’t give to be able to keep this moment where she believes in him, in his power. His hands curl around her cheeks and he kisses her, long and hard. He’s not sure if he has enough of anything left in him to get the words out. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.  
  
“Negan —,” she whispers against his lips in tears, “Negan, please — please tell me —!” She pulls back from his kisses, looking up at him again. Her eyes searching.  
  
Her face goes perilously blank.  
  
He sighs.  
  
He doesn’t need to say the words.  
  
Her face crumples and she slides away from him with a sob. “No!” She falls onto her knees. He cringes at the way they crack against the cement. She doesn’t even notice. She’s frozen. No air comes into her chest. Her ribs bow inward, compressing her lungs, choking her heart.  
  
It felt like her bones shattered when her lungs finally expanded. She learned the agonizing dichotomy of inhaling and sobbing at the exact same time. “No! No! No! No!” she wails, a heart wrenching sound that tears out of her mouth like a demon fleeing a host.  
  
Negan tries to get her in his hold. He has to put Lucille down to try. She just keeps slipping out of his grasp, leaving his fingertips damp, like she’s purely made of her anguished tears. “Baby please —,” Negan finally gets a hand around her arm. “Nita’s lost, baby, I’m sorry —,”  
  
Lupe rips away from him and curls up into a ball on the ground. Her head presses against the cold floor. Everything inside of her is spilling, emptying, abandoning what was becoming nothing more than a slab of meat and unending pain. She is drained of all that is good. The tears won’t stop flowing. There’s an aching sting in her chest, like her heart is trying to burrow from under her ribs, fleeing its confines, and returning to where it belonged. With the dead girl in the other room. Alma…  
  
“NO!” Lupe screams, pounding her fists against the floor.  
  
“No…” She weeps, her fingertips digging into the relentless cold cement.  
  
“We made sure she wouldn’t turn,” Negan says, pitiful and cold, “and we’ll take care of her body. I’ll do right by her — by you. I promise.”  
  
Lupe is trying to press her skull hard enough into the ground to slowly bludgeon herself. She’s rasping for breath, all caught in her chest like a cat afraid to come out. She can’t stand hearing his voice another second. She can smell his breath on the stale air and it tastes noxious on her tongue. His form, his face, is a hideous grotesque of lies. She can finally see the full mess of a shadow beneath. He’s pathetic.  
  
Lupe’s face rests in her hands, her tears relentless. The depth of her sobs is agonizing. Her shaking form fades into a withered mass of what she once was. Her heart aches and aches and she knows that this is it. This is her true breaking point. Without Alma, she is empty. Without Alma, all of this is pointless. Her sobs screech into a deathly hush. The cell becomes silent as the tomb she wants to ensure for herself. This is it. The end.  
  
“Deal’s off…”  
  
Negan’s head tilts, unsure. “What was tha—,”  
  
Lupe launches off the floor. Using the wall for some leverage, she’s on him in an instant. He tries to grab Lucille, got his hand around the grip, but her shoulder slams into his diaphragm. The hit rams him back against the wall, just as unforgiving as she is. His spine bows in response to the impact, his head hammers against the brick behind it. Negan gasps for his stolen breath, his grip on Lucille is weak because of the sharp shockwave of pain radiating from his chest.  
  
Lupe’s hands clasp around the barrel, yanking the bat right out of his hands as he shudders for air. She clips him under the chin with the knob end, hitting his head back against the unyielding brick again. Her short grip in the tiny cell still allows for a full swing. She lands one right across his temple and cheek bone. She doesn’t even notice the barbed wire cutting into her palms.  
  
Hurtling towards the ground, Negan thwacks against the cold concrete. The light spins in his vision as he lays on his back, almost unable to move and completely stunned. A shadow slowly crawls onto his chest and smacks his hands away mercilessly. She didn’t make a single sound until she throws the first punch. The gut rending howl rattles its way through the entire Sanctuary. It carves out something in Negan, and for the first time in his life, he felt like he deserved this. He felt like he was scared.  
  
Lupe doesn’t stop punching. She can’t stop relishing in the feeling of his warm blood coating her skin. Her bone cracks directly into his. The gashes on her knuckles let her tear into the broken wasteland of his face, one she put there with gusto. She can’t stop screaming. Her hatred envelopes them in the wretched sounds of an agonizing grief instead. There is no artificial darkness, its burned away. It’s right for her grief to be witnessed, truly in the light.  
  
Lupe doesn’t know if she killed Negan by the time she’s tackled to the ground. She doesn’t know if he’s alive as they drag him bleeding out of the cell. She still isn’t sure after several Saviors go to town, beating the ever living shit out of her.  
  
But she hoped.  
  
She wakes up with a start. Her body jolts uncomfortably. That would be pretty standard for what she just went through, but she also can’t move her hands and feet at all. Cold metal bites into her skin and a vile hatred bubbles up inside of her again. They cuffed her. He always used to cuff her when the Saviors had to corner her into a cell. She hates being cuffed.  
  
She lets out a furious wail, screaming as loud as she can and kicking against the door. It booms on the hinges as tears stream down her cheeks. The agony of her loss quickly chokes off her rage directly into sobs. She couldn’t believe Alma was gone. After losing their parents when Lupe was only twenty, she became Alma’s sole carer. They’d gone nearly ten years with just each other. They knew each other inside and out. They loved each other and fought for (and with) each other. Lupe did everything for Alma. She considered it a goddamn privilege to keep that girl succeeding in the world. They both knew surviving always meant living best as long as they were together. Now, Lupe is truly alone. She doesn’t know how long she is kept in the dark cell, but she knows that she cried the entire time.  
  
When the door next opens, several Saviors come to grab her at gun point, ready for a fight. Her eyes lift to stare blankly. She just shakes her head at them. She’s done with fighting. The only reason she cared to do it in the first place was because of Alma. That baby came into Lupe’s life when she was twelve. The world was tumultuous and confusing at that age. Alma, the fattest baby Lupe had ever seen, came thundering in and made life different — brighter — just by a smile and a gurgling laugh. Lupe, at such a young age, knew she would die for Alma in a heartbeat. Their bond was pure and strong. It didn’t mean they always got along, but they always, always loved each other unconditionally.  
  
The Saviors undo the chains on her ankles and stand her up. She barely reacts to their jostling, silent tears falling unnoticed down her cheeks. She gets dragged through the lower halls until she reaches some stairs. They aren’t exactly careful getting her up them. She stumbles frequently, bare knees and ankles getting banged against the metal edges, over and over. She bleeds by the end of it, but she still doesn’t care. They bring her out into the warehouse. Her eyes continue seeping, but they feel too dry to roll. She lets herself go even more limp in their arms as her last act of defiance.  
  
Until Lupe sees that they are bringing her to the incinerator. She sees Alma’s corpse. Her head and face are exposed, but the rest of her body is wrapped tightly in her sheets.  
  
Lupe rips away from her guards and runs straight for Alma.  Everyone raises their guns and takes a few large steps back. She wraps her handcuffed arms around Alma’s head. Her skin is cold and her body is limp. It’s true. It’s wretched and horrible, but it’s true. “¡Pequenita!” Lupe sobs, her forehead presses into Alma’s. “Don’t leave me here. Please! Lo siento mucho.”  
  
Her voice chokes out in a whisper, “¡Mea culpa, querida! You hear me? My fault!” Her breath is watery and rattling, stronger than her words, “Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to survive if it’s without you.”  
  
Alma doesn’t respond, not even with her quippy bullshit, and it devastates Lupe so much more.  
  
“Por favor —,” she sobs into her sister, kissing her cheeks, “por favor, no me dejes. Te quiero. ¡No puedo vivir sin ti!”  
  
“Dita…” His voice is like an axe striking her neck.  
  
Lupe goes limp against her sister. Shaking her head, she begs, “I can’t…” she whispers, a broken and empty death rattle, “Alma, I’m so sorry…”  
  
Hands gently peel her off of Alma’s body. Lupe goes limp in Negan’s arms, crying so hard she can barely breathe. She grips onto Negan’s leather jacket, she can’t keep herself together. This is perverse. This is the exact opposite of how the world should be. If anything, Lupe deserves to burn along with Alma. That should be her punishment. She deserves to suffer for letting her sister come here. Though, if Lupe is honest, burning with her would just be one more kindness Alma could give.  
  
Saviors start slowly pushing the body into the furnace. Engulfed by flames and purged from the wreckage of this earth, Alma’s soul is allowed to rise. Her torment ends, and she can rest, be with their parents, their ancestors, living on through the universe that birthed them.  
  
Lupe feels nothing. She’s empty. She’s abandoned. Forsaken. All that’s left are tears.  
  
Negan’s grip is tight on her, probably because she can barely feel her legs. His voice is gruff as he speaks, “Come on now. You need some sleep.”  
  
Lupe looks up at him, his face a mass of black and blue and swollen skin. He’s covered with those tiny bandages, holding the pieces of his skin together, but the shadow writhes there within the cracks. She has a question in her eyes. For laying a single finger on Negan, she should be dead. The possible punishment for touching his horrible fucking bat might actually be worse.  
  
He grins through half a grimace as he undoes her cuffs. “No, not in the cells. I needed you to calm down and not hurt anyone else. If you haven’t noticed, you’re kind of the MacGuyver of fucking people up.” His people keep the halls clear as they walk together, wound up tightly in each other’s grasp. “I’m taking you back to your room upstairs. You’re not gonna try to kill me again, and you’re going to let Doctor Carson and Amber help you through this,” he grunts.  
  
Lupe looks away from him, scowling deeply and making no such promise.  
  
He stops, turning towards her and grabs her chin, yanking her face to his. “You will get through this,” he snaps. “You’ll let Amber help you.” His eyes bore into hers. “You’re still my wife, you agreed to the terms,” he snarls, “and so did I. We’re gonna take care of you.”  
  
They start the long trek back to his floor. Lupe stays completely silent throughout. They get her into her bedroom, still rather threadbare. Sitting her on the mattress, he helps her take off her shoes. He inspects her ankles where the cuffs rubbed her raw. There are similar stripes across her wrists. He stands up and hovers right in front of her for a solid beat before slowly pulling something from behind his back and letting it hang at his side.  
  
For a good second, Lupe thinks he’s going to put a bullet in her brain and she actually sighs with relief. Instead, he extends his arm and holds the gun out to her. She looks at it and realizes it’s Alma’s pistol. Over the last few years, she had carved the handle with intricate, weaving strings of ivy, leaves, and flowers. She was so talented, one of those people that just picks up on things and does them right. Alma was the polar opposite of Lupe and her constant failures.  
  
Lupe stares at the gun, a few more sobs left inside of her that bubble out. The Saviors took it along with all of their weapons when her and Alma were first kidnapped. Lupe didn’t think she’d ever see it again. Except maybe on the waist of a Savior she’d have the urge to kill.  
  
“It’s special…” Negan says it like an acknowledgement of what she already knows. She carefully takes the gun into her grasp and holds it like it’s spun gold. “Wasn’t about to let my men have it. Couldn’t appreciate it.”  
  
Lupe cries, but her arm pops up and the gun clicks emptily with her twitching finger against the trigger. It’s pointed right at Negan’s face.  
  
“Still can’t have bullets though,” Negan chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “Thought we agreed you weren’t gonna try to kill me anymore?”  
  
Lupe’s arm drops. An endlessly blank and vastly empty void settles in her. “Didn’t feel loaded, just checking,” she croaks.  
  
Negan grumbles affectionately, kneeling on the ground in front of her. He spreads her knees and presses himself into the space. His fingers pluck delicately at her hair, swiping away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Beautiful, I’m so sorry…” His voice is laden with sorrow and probably honesty, but she’s not sure she can care either way.  
  
“I’m gonna take good care of you baby girl.” He leans in slowly, his bruised lips pressing gently to hers. “Always…” he mutters against her mouth. “Never let you feel alone.” His hands span her body, seeking the warmth of her skin, the reassurance of her acquiescence.  
  
“You’ve got people here who care for you.” His tongue laps at her lower lip and enters, because she’s too tired to fight. He always had something to prove. It’s always about him more than anybody else. She knows this about him and she despises it.  
  
“They wan’t to see you happy.” The thin straps of her dress get slowly pushed off. “She’d want you to be happy…” His mouth runs along the arc of her bare shoulder, sinking into her neck while his hands push her dress down her chest. “I can keep you real happy, doll.”  
  
Lupe puts an arm up across her breasts to stop the fabric from exposing her. Her neck folds to keep him from getting access to her skin. Negan’s hands are full of wanting while hers have little behind them. She must hold back the terrible sorrow inside her. To keep it from getting out. She’s unsure anyone would survive it.  
  
Negan peels her hand away to gain what he wants and loosens the binds on her calm. The other hand creeps up the back of her neck, fingers diving into her hair. He yanks her head back to have the access he desires. The rattling chains of the lamenting behemoth inside of her creak out of her mouth in the form of a whine.  
  
Lupe wriggles against his assault. Tears are back in her eyes and she can breathe. She doesn’t have the strength to stop it, but she doesn’t want to do it anymore either. His hands are getting rougher, obsessive, and painful. Her strength returns.  
  
“Please stop!” she begs. She doesn’t know if the words come out or get swallowed by his groans. His hand shoots between her legs and the horrific familiar ache of his violence burns her. Fingers drag acid along the plush skin of her thighs and she tries to clamp her knees shut.  
  
A scuffle happens. The hands that grab at her get pushed off. The teeth nipping at her, slapped away. The knee pressing between her thighs is a mountain she topples with a wrench of her body. She became a flurry of hands pounding in grief and writhing screams of despondent rage. Negan’s roughness aches in every inch of her. He climbs fully on top of her, pressing her into the bed. With her neck in his hand, the grasp is much too tight. She wriggles and thrashes, but it’s no use. His eyes are alight with something confounding and complex, but it’s nowhere near good. Lupe can finally feel the fear he always wanted from her.  
  
His chest heaves against her, the sharp sting of his belt buckle digs into her pubic bone. “Are you saying ‘no’ to me, wife?” he bites out, rage chattering in his bared teeth.  
  
Lupe cowers away from his indignant heat. Her neck strains, trying to keep some air between them. She shakes, her breath is trapped in his hands, making her words come out tight and meek, “No, Negan,” her voice is just above a whisper, weak and whimpering, “I’m saying, ‘please.’”  
  
There’s a long moment of silence where neither one of them move. His hand tightens around her neck as he leans in and kisses her, ravenous, consuming, and imprinting a confusing threat. In another blink, Negan immediately crawls off of her, leaving the room and slamming the door shut behind him so hard it shakes on the hinges.  
  
Negan stomps down the hallway, running his hands through his hair. His palm stings against the bruise on his temple. He scoffs angrily before kicking at the door of an empty room.  
  
He stalks back into his chambers and heads straight for the booze. Uncorking that hideous decanter, he pours straight from the crystal down into his gullet. He sits on top of his desk, most of the lights off as he stares out the window and continues to drink. Deeply calamitous thoughts stream through his head. He thinks about the first time he saw his new wife, looking like a goddess of doom. A nymph, all windswept and dirty. She was fierce. An Arbiter. A monster, just like him. Willing to do whatever it takes to protect what they love.  
  
She loved her sister. Negan loved his people. He loved his community and the power it afforded him. He’s furious just one little gash could get him so would up and out of sorts. The defiance. The ferocity. The stone cold killer in her. He wanted it all and she had nothing left holding her back.  
  
Tonight seemed to be the first time he actually scared her. She was truly frightened by him. Not even a whiff of defiance left. He didn’t want that. This game of edging each other closer and closer to incivility was a fire between them, drawing them to each other. But now that her sister’s gone and she’s feeling alone, his heart aches in a strange and distant way.  
  
He wanted that woman under his thumb. All that fierce power, adoring and yielding just to him. When she finally became his wife, experiencing her was like the first time trying a drug. Having her in his hands felt like he molded her from the earth just for himself. She was everything he wanted. She was special. She still had fire in a world like this. Negan wanted it to keep him warm during the rest of his dismal days.  
  
He’s an asshole who drinks too much and kills a lot of people. He can be destructive and vindictive. He wants to watch the world burn and piss on its ashes. He would happily fuck and fight his way through to the ultimate destruction… But he doesn’t want to hurt her. Not anymore. He’d take care of her during what would likely become a destructive period. He would keep her safe until she felt like she could be herself again. He wanted her too much to ever let her go. Especially now that he had her, knew that he could just taste her whenever he wanted. He’d just have to give her time to heal. She’d get over it eventually. Hell, he did when he lost the only person who ever mattered to him.  
  
He chuckles at himself and downs the rest of the decanter in a few long gulps. Jumping off his desk and wiping his mouth, he pulls his radio out of his pocket. “Send Amber in with some more whiskey and smokes,” he spits. Grabbing an unopened bottle from his desk drawer, he rips the cork out with his teeth and starts chugging more whiskey. He needs a good fuck and some goddamn advice on what to do with a broken goddess.  
  
Negan drowns himself as he is wont to do. Deeper and deeper into a bleak pit which he cannot, for the life of him, crawl out of. He descends into his need to control and possess willingly. While he digs himself further into his new dismal grave, The Sanctuary is not at rest.  
  
A soft pillow case is ripped to shreds and wrapped around bleeding hands. Then a single piece of paper is left on the desk, used only once. Six simple words are scrawled across the paper, but one is crossed out.  
  
As long as she ~~lives~~ LIVED.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need all of you to understand that i literally hated this plot point so much that I have plans to write an AU where the Alexandrians find the sisters first. No joke. Like, I am probably gonna write it after i finish posting this one. Cause...fuck all this. 
> 
> That is if people want to see it. Since I do have a solid grasp on what I want to happen, (though it varies on the starting points, I'd love to go back further and make this shit a long epic hahah), it won't be the same as this one (there will be essential plot points I can't exactly skip over that might repeat). I am so sad...but the rest of the story is about healing and justice. It's not a bumpless road, but this is the canyon Lupe needs to climb out of.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops i fucked it up, this is chapter 12. sorry. 13 is our first glimpse of a new face.

Lupe traveled for days. Weeks. Months, maybe. She didn’t fucking know. After leaving her note on the desk, she fled the Sanctuary as covertly as possible. Lupe and Alma always had a plan. With the Saviors all over them and Negan breathing down Lupe’s neck, they had to keep pushing it back. The deaths, the fights, the injuries, all that time needed to heal. They were gonna leave after the scar incident. Then, more bad things got in the way. As the days passed and Alma remained unconscious, Lupe was afraid they’d never realize their plan. As Negan’s grip continued to tighten around her, his seduction becoming more aggressive, Lupe was afraid he’d break her before the two had the chance.  
  
Lupe thinks she might be broken remembering how she clung to Negan as her sister’s body burned. She thinks she might be broken because as he kissed her, she burned for him, ached to be cared for, and wanted. She knows none of it was true with him, all of it was a screaming misery inside her. But deep within her well of sorrow and insecurity, she wanted something to erase the wretched loss of her sister. And she had literally nothing else.  
  
She’s still glad she stopped him. Still glad she pissed him off, made him go off and drink so much he actually slept through the night. It made it so much easier her for sneak out of the Sanctuary. She only had to kill a few of his Saviors. Thankful she was right about the shifts that night, she didn’t have to risk harming some of the ones she grew to tolerate. She had taken their weapons, their clothes, absconded back into the forest where she belonged, and left them to turn.  
  
She doesn’t know where she’s going. She thought about returning to her and Alma’s camp and getting the car. She didn’t want to risk it right away. Negan might go looking in that direction and she promised herself she’d rather die than ever lay eyes on him again. But it doesn’t matter. Lupe just has to go. She has to get as far away from the Sanctuary as she can. She isn’t going to profane her sister’s memory by staying in or near that place one second longer.  
  
So much of Lupe’s efforts are spent dodging Saviors and other people. She barely has enough time to get food, water, or distance. She lost most of her guns a while back. She’d had no luck finding bullets anyway. She scavenges, but doesn’t want to risk coming across any of the people or communities out there. She knows about other places with more people, but she isn’t familiar enough with the area or their temperament. She hadn’t really been out of the Sanctuary since she arrived there. The last thing she needs is more people on her ass.  
  
The waning summer has a reaping, relentless heat to it that feels like an extra dollop of gravity. Lupe survives though, like she always does. She knows she’s fading, but over the last few days, she isn’t sure she cares. Alma is gone. Alma. The purest source of goodness that Lupe ever laid eyes on. Her sister, who devoted her life to being kind, is not just dead, but was brutalized, tortured, and abused. Alone… Lupe is wholly possessed by the knowledge that she is responsible for what happened. If she hadn’t pushed back against Negan so deliberately, he may not have been so frequently incensed enough to toss her in the cells. It left Alma vulnerable. It was irresponsible and selfish.  
  
Lupe remembers her father, a refugee from a destabilized nation. He told both her and Alma that sometimes safety had to be more important than integrity. No, he couldn’t have gone out and sprayed down the insurgents that killed most of his city’s people all by himself. He could not have been a single handed hero. They had to bend to the will of murderers. They couldn’t fight. They had to plan and run so they could live. They had to survive and defy those that would crush them to nothing. Lupe hated to hear it then, but she understands why. It kept people alive. Now she knows.  
  
That’s why she’s still walking. She refuses to get caught. She’d rather wither into nothing than turn back. Rather than step a foot in his direction, she’d happily be consumed by trees, tortured by their roots growing through her veins for all eternity. She would never go back to that place. It would be an insult to the memory of her family. The family that lived for her and taught her what it was to exist in this grim world. That she deserved love and respect, despite it.  
  
Lupe knows what she deserves now. With her sister gone and her body empty, all that’s left is death. Maybe a little revenge flickers, but it isn’t worth being caught. She escaped. She escaped and she despises her ill gotten freedom. She won’t renege on it though. Lupe knew. From the second that shadowed monster showed her Alma’s body, she knew it was the breaking point. She may have been handcuffed, but she was unshackled. It wasn’t the burden of fear, of always being terrified of losing the one person she loved. It wasn’t the exhausting efforts to feed, clothe, and keep her baby sister safe. No, for Lupe those were all beautiful blessings. Alma would always be as such. Lupe would carry the weight of her lost soul always. But with the smoke that released Alma from their horrific prison, Lupe knew. Alma still had one last act of pure goodness, becoming a true savior, and proving to Lupe that she deserved to be free too.  
  
The Saviors are like a virus, posing as something else but infecting, and fundamentally fucking with the natural order of things. They ruin whatever they encounter. The horror of being with them couldn’t last a moment longer. Lupe couldn’t survive in an environment like that, hostile and noxious. She can be a mean bitch. She’d rather step on someone’s neck than risk the looks they give her. But she wasn’t like them. She could never be like the Saviors and she’d never let herself fall that far.  
  
Alma would be disappointed if Lupe truly lost herself. Though Alma was dead so it didn’t exactly matter what she thought. Especially because Lupe is absolutely not in the right mindset to process anything appropriately. She is just a soulless body now, avoiding the dead and living, suspended somewhere lost between them. She became an embodiment of their mutual suffering. She hungered so strongly, she ached. She thirsted so desperately, her throat burned. She was so painfully empty, but without the nascent peace of actually being dead and gone. Lupe knows Alma wouldn’t want her to die. But she’s unsure just how much longer she can hold on.  
  
Stumbling, Lupe slides down a tiny embankment, cussing at herself for not paying attention. As she crumbles into a pile of empty skin and bones, she stares up at the sky, unblocked by trees and doesn’t bother to get up. The clouds roll around in the big blue expanse. The tumbling cumulus looks soft enough to touch. Summer is finally ending, though some days are like its final, thrashing death throes. To Lupe, the earth is just carefully edging its way into autumn. She appreciates its hesitance, because as hot as it could be in the summer, she was in no way prepared to survive the crisp autumn and biting winter to come.  
  
Hopefully, the Saviors and Negan would just think she gave up and died. Lying on the lushness of the earth, she thinks it might not be the worst idea. She closes her eyes, gripping Alma’s gun. The only thing she still has and the only thing that still matters. Lupe has one more bullet. She just hopes that she wakes one more time to use it. She doesn’t want to die. But she doesn’t want to change either.  
  
She can feel Alma there with her. Waiting. Soft as the wind, she strokes Lupe’s hair like she always used to, and tells her to rest. So Lupe does. She tries to rest, to touch Alma and feel the warmth of her spirit again. The void consumes Lupe like an old friend. She grasps it in her fingertips, leans into the emptiness, only to have it ripped from her. The hunger in her stomach claws from the inside out, like barbed wire lining her gut, wrenching tears from her eyes at all the memories. The dryness in her throat drags her back into consciousness because she can’t swallow or breathe. She wants to fall back into the darkness, gasping for breath and begging for it to end. Lupe wants to be free, like Alma.  
  
When Lupe opens her eyes, barely lucid and no longer seeing the soft comfort of the clouds, she knows she’s ready. She has to be. Blinking unevenly, her eyes can barely focus, but she can still hear the crunching of gravel and leaves as someone steps through it.  
  
“Alma?” Lupe tries to say, but it comes out a garbled crackling. The dryness of her throat chokes her into silence.  
  
A back lit silhouette hovers in her tunneling vision. She figures it’s either the undead or a Savior. She doesn’t care which one. She smells the tang of leather, the sweet decay of guts and death, and the sharp choke of engine smog. She tries to blink her eyes fully open for the shadow, to truly face it. She knows it doesn’t really matter.  
  
Lupe’s weakened arm shakes as she raises it up, beckoning the shadow forward, welcoming it with open arms. She smiles as it approaches, slowly floating in and out of her focus. She grips onto the thing and yanks it down, holding it against her as tight as she can. She wedges her dirty temple against the same patch of skin on the shadow, proving it’s real. With joyous tears in her eyes, Lupe’s last breath is a whisper, “God, killer, savior, or all three, I am so grateful—,” she holds on tight and snarls, “— that I get to take one of you fuckers down with me!”  
  
She smiles as it squirms against her, readying to try and destroy her. Killing or kidnapping, she would not survive. She raises her other arm like a flash. The barrel of Alma’s gun presses against the head of the squirming thing and it stills. Lupe prays her aim is true enough to blow straight through.  
  
The sham of her existence is undeserved.  
  
Her last act is an effortless pull of the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to Smd and CLT for commenting!! 
> 
> Thanks so much for your patience as I work through formatting.


	13. Chapter 13

The gunshot that boomed sent birds up out of the nearby trees in a tizzy. Daryl bagged himself a few, getting ready to head back to Alexandria with a great catch. Him and Aaron tracked a buck for a few days and finally have that asshole hanging in the back of the truck ready to go. Aaron is truly excited about the catch, his first real efforts as a hunter proving successful. Daryl has to be pretty pleased by that. He’s the one that taught Aaron what to do. He’s proud of his new friend and thinking of fixing the antlers into some sort of wall decoration. Aaron and Eric could put over that god awful license plate mural. Daryl snorts to himself as they finish up and get ready to go home.  
  
“You think the gunshot will draw walkers?” Aaron asks, carefully surveying the area as they clean up their camp. “This place was really clean.”  
  
“They get drawn out hearing people breathing. I’m sure it’ll rile’em up.” Daryl shrugs as he tosses things into the back of the truck. “It’s startin’ to get colder. They slow down, group up more. Fuckin’ hibernatin’ or whatever.“ There’s a haphazard organization to Daryl. He knows what he’s doing, but near no one else does.   
  
Aaron seems a little skittish. Daryl figures he still has a bit of adrenaline running through him from the excitement of the hunt. It’s probably just trying to find a way out. Once they get back to Alexandria, he’ll probably deflate and need time to recover. They hop into their truck, deer wrapped up in a tarp, and a bag of birds and squirrels in the back with it. Aaron’s driving, leaning forward with his eyes dedicated to the road. Daryl lights up a cigarette and blows the smoke out the open window.  
  
“So you’ve been hanging around Denise a lot lately.” Aaron smiles in Daryl’s direction suggestively.  
  
Daryl snorts. “Says I remind her of her brother. She’s alright, sweet and funny. Better Doctor than Pete, that’s for sure.” He pops a small grin. “So much fer yer gaydar, I’m bettin’ her and Tara are about to have a throw down soon. They’ve been circling each other for weeks.”  
  
“That’s fair. My gaydar is shit. It took me months to realize Eric was flirting with me when we first met. So you’re probably right.” Aaron snickers. “I do recall seeing them blushing at each other for about twenty minutes over a can of creamed corn.”  
  
Daryl grimaces. “Gross…”  
  
“Hey, don’t knock young love Mr. Dixon, it’ll come for you too.” Aaron smiles knowingly. He likes teasing Daryl. Everyone takes the hunter far too seriously. Though his general demeanor does give people pause. Daryl is shy and defensive, but it comes out as gruff. He’s direct, always says what he means, but unfortunately most people feel like the truth is the same as being rude. After chipping away at the edges though, Daryl turned out to be a pretty compassionate guy and wildly funny.  
  
“I was talkin’ ‘bout the creamed corn.” Daryl sniffs, his body jerking away from his own thoughts. “I ain’t young no more. Not on my plate to worry about. Don’t got time for it.”  
  
Aaron smiles again. “Ah, but love always has time for you.”  
  
Daryl snorts himself into a grin. “Shut up man.”  
  
“I love you Daryl Dixon.” Aaron stretches his smile winningly.  
  
“You’re all hopped up on endorphins from the hunt, ain’t ya?” Daryl can’t help but twitch a bigger smile at Aaron’s goofy grin.  
  
Aaron shrugs, bouncing in his seat. “Probably…”  
  
The drive back is a mish-mash of companionable silence and momentary conversation. Aaron is a decent man that found Daryl’s family and brought them into Alexandria. There’s a lot of resistance to Daryl’s group, survivors from the road that lasted almost longer than anyone else in the community. They even had a baby to think about. However, because of their magnanimous devotion to each other, they always manage to pull through. They’d lost so many people along the way, but with the what Alexandria represents, Daryl is starting to think hope might be an option again.  
  
“You don’think too much is gonna go wrong cause a what happened, right?” Daryl grumbles.  
  
“Well, we were really lucky Michonne was there to disarm Pete. He could have killed someone with that sword.” Aaron’s lip curls with annoyance as he snarls, “Deanna was a fool to keep him around as long as she did.” He huffs. “Not like he ever really did anything at the infirmary. Denise basically runs the place and he’s the massive dick that didn’t even want her here.”  
  
“I’m glad he was stopped,” Daryl says, with a bite to it. “He shouldn’t be back in his house though. He needs to be dried out, permanently. Fucking risking all our lives puttin’em in his hands.”  
  
Aaron nods vehemently. “Maggie tried to get him under house arrest, separated from his family, but Deanna and Reg thought it’d be cruel. I don’t know if they’re thinking straight after Aiden.”  
  
Daryl shrugs. “Y’all didn’t know what’s out there. Enough to make anybody a little undone.” He looks out the window as he takes another drag of his cigarette. It’s run down to the stub, so he squeezes out the cherry and chucks the butt out the window as he exhales.   
  
Watching the scenery roll by, Daryl settles with a little bit of peace. Summer is coming to its end. They had great stock in the pantry. Water was still good. They lost a few people because of mistakes made that couldn’t be undone. Some of them aren’t too bad of a loss. The whole mess trying to get that electrical part still lingers over the group. He wished Nicholas was dead instead of Noah. He’d even take Spencer’s little shit of a brother over Nicholas. Instead of abandoning people like a spineless shit again, Aiden had the guts to try and save people in the end.  
  
With the grim thoughts rolling around in his head, mashing together with everything else that haunts him, he watches a spot in the closing distance to help calm himself. A body shambles out of the forest and tumbles uselessly down into the ditch on the side of the road, never to be seen again. The walkers, though not technically brainless, hadn’t shown to be very functionally promising. They always tripped up and ruined shit. Clumsy as all hell, writhing around like reeds at the bottom of the lake waiting to pull someone under.   
  
A bitter childish thought whips through the grief in Daryl’s head. And since he was never taught an ounce of self control, he rolls down the window as they approach, gathering mucous at the back of his throat.   
  
“Ugh! Daryl! Gross!” Aaron whines at the sound.   
  
Daryl has to focus as he prepares to spit, hoping to land on the rotting corpse. “Bet me I can’t hit it,” he says with the loogie in his mouth.   
  
“Stop! I’m gonna hurl!” Aaron almost swerves, his body lurching with the gag in his throat.   
  
“Baby...” Daryl garbles with a full mouth.   
  
They’re getting close. He’s about to spit, mouth tense and tongue curled, but he had to pause. There’s something strange about that body. It doesn’t look decayed at all. Not much blood on the clothes, if any, but a shit ton of mud, leaves, and whatever else. It isn’t getting back up to find food. It’s holding something. He knows the walkers well, from what felt like a lifetime of experience since this all started. They might absently carry shit around, but it’s pretty rare. They needed those hands for their prey. He’d been through these woods practically day in and day out since he got here, he knew it well. He hadn’t recognized any signs of people in the area. That one had to be recently turned or…  
  
“Stop,” Daryl mutters, mouth still full of spit and mucous.  
  
“I cannot talk to you while you’re being so disgu —,”  
  
Daryl hocks the loogie out the window and snarls, “Stop!”  
  
Aaron slams on the breaks, skidding to a stop. Daryl’s door is open before the tires settle, and he sprints back towards the body. He slides to a shaky halt in the area he thought he saw it, crossbow up. Glancing around the space, he hears Aaron reverse the squealing truck to come and back him up. After deciding the area was walker and otherwise human free, Daryl finds the body he’s looking for.   
  
Daryl hears Aaron positioning behind him for back up. He approaches the body slowly. He gently starts patting it down, checking for scratches and bites. The person is clean, if no one counted the dirt. The short form is covered in mismatched, too big, clothes. The hands are wrapped in dirty, bloody fabric. Looking pretty messed up, except for the perfect bright purple nail polish on a few of their fingers. The body twitches, but doesn’t rise. He almost shoots them right there until he hears muttering come from the mass of gnarled black hair covering their face.   
  
Aaron surveys the area. He has to take out a few walkers who were shambling through the trees on the opposite side of the road. They are otherwise undisturbed as Daryl checks the body. He turns back to check on Daryl again when he hears more rustling. He glares out into the trees for a while, until he realizes it’s not coming from there. It’s coming from Daryl’s direction. Turning with the thought, he raises up his gun as he swings around.   
  
A delicate hand rises up. The whispering comes from the depths of the long black hair. Sticks and leaves live inside of it like some sort of disheveled forest creature. Shocked, Daryl is compelled like sailors to sirens and leans in to hear better. The arm wraps around his shoulders, one of their thick legs wraps around his and pins him. Their hold is not so delicate.   
  
Yanking Daryl close with a shaking strength, the living corpse rasps right in his ear, “— I get to take one of you fuckers down with me!”   
  
The body shifts, swinging an arm up. The severe effort is powered by the enraged words and a pure and incensed honesty in the need for death. A gun barrel presses to Daryl’s head. The shambling body, too tired to be precise in its exhaustion, pushes the muzzle against his skin, jerky and unstable. Aaron screams his name and starts running the same time the gun goes off. Daryl had about a half a second before that to wrap his hand around their grip and push the gun in the opposite direction of their closely pressed heads. After the gun goes off, the body goes limp beneath him. Daryl scrambles back just as Aaron reaches him and starts yanking him to the road.   
  
“Holy shit!” Daryl snarls, if slightly a whimper near the end.  
  
“Holy shit!” Aaron says at just about the same time, much more shaken. “Are you all right?”  
  
“They said they were gonna take me with’em! Almost shot me in the fuckin’ head!” Daryl growls, helplessly funneling fear into rage. “Leave’em by the fucking road for all I care.”  
  
Aaron snickers a little, huffing from fear too. “But did you die?” He looks at Daryl with a squint and a grin. Daryl glares at him, heaving breaths out his nose above his pinched jaw. Aaron chuckles just a little. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit dramatic?”  
  
“Too many people’ve tried to kill me. I’m thinkin’ I’m owed it,” Daryl huffs.  
  
Aaron shrugs and nods in agreement. He looks back over to the body, laying like a starfish, unmoving. “They drop the gun?”  
  
Daryl shakes his head as he stands up and brushes off. “I ain’t fuckin’ checkin’.” He has half a mind to shoot the damn bushy haired asshole just on principle. First thing they pull is some sort of subversive dual suicide bullshit.  
  
Aaron rolls his eyes and waits for Daryl to shake off the near death experience. Daryl backs him up this time, crossbow at the ready. Aaron checks for weapons and finds a shoddy slingshot and two eight inch black metal rods tucked in the boots. The gun landed just a few feet away from the scuffle. Figuring it’s safe, he checks their vitals. Eric was required to take First Aid classes as a teacher, so Aaron had always gone with him, figuring it was a good skill to have. He brushes some hair out of the way and discovers something surprising.   
  
Her round face is covered in dirt and mud, blending with the browns and greens smudged on the oversized clothes she wore. Camouflage like soldiers used to do in the field. He couldn’t find any injuries and lifts her up slightly to see if she might regain consciousness. She’s short, but she solid in his arms, warm and clinging to life.   
  
“I got a pulse!” Aaron smiles. “She’s still breathing!”  
  
“Fuckin’ peachy,” Daryl grumbles, his crossbow unwavering. “Got anymore weapons?”  
  
“Not that I can see.” Aaron lays her back on the ground and walks back over to Daryl. “We need to take her to Denise.”  
  
Daryl’s bow drops sharply. “You wanna take her back? She just put a gun to my head and pulled the trigger!” He stomps around in front of Aaron, pacing out the irritation. He doesn’t want someone like that around his family. If she killed him, he would have left them all behind. He wouldn’t have them anymore. He wouldn’t be there to protect them. To him, that makes her ten times scarier than a walker.  
  
Aaron’s face pinches in consideration. “You and Rick had guns at my head the first time we met. I was sure you were gonna pull the trigger too.”  
  
Daryl halts his pacing. His face goes impassive, his arms limp. Like the realization is a reboot button. The first movement is him biting the inside of his cheek, jaw bouncing. He narrows his gaze at Aaron. “Man, we had just tangled with cannibals! We couldn’t risk that shit again.”  
  
Aaron nods along, chewing on his bottom lip. His head points down thoughtfully at the forest floor. His eyes raise carefully to Daryl. “Do you want to consider what she may have tangled with to make what she did to you a necessary risk?”  
  
Daryl huffs out a breath through his nose, still chewing on his cheek. “Shit…” he grumbles and kicks at the grass. He paces a bit on an oblong path. “Shit!” he snaps and looks back at Aaron who’s smiling. “Fine!” Daryl flaps his free hand at Aaron. “But she’s not sitting with us.”  
  
“What?” Aaron scoffs at him.  
  
“We’ll tie her up in the back,” Daryl says gruffly, walking towards Aaron and whipping past him towards the unconscious attempted murderer.  
  
“You’re serious?” Aaron follows after him, playfully, but also  little bit actually disgusted. “Am I hearing you right? You want to hog tie her? And leave her in the bed of the truck? With a giant, gutted dear corpse?”  
  
Daryl shrugs as he stares down at her, hardly even recognizable as a human anymore. She looks more like some cryptid that haunts the forests and chokes men with vines. She belongs in some classical fairy tale like some unstoppable myth.   
  
He looks back at Aaron. “I’m drivin’. If you care so much, you can keep her company in the back.”  
  
“Asshole…” Aaron scoffs and bends down to help Daryl carefully get the woman up and into the back of the truck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jkfdsaljfuuuuckdkshilalkjassklfjkdsla


	14. Chapter 14

Lupe’s eyes blink open slowly. Brightness fills her vision and for a second she really, really regrets consciousness. Her mouth smacks, tacky, trying to form words. Blinking is gritty and every inch of her hurts. She tries to move. Her legs wiggle once and it’s a delayed, tired thing. Also painful. She’s a bit cold and her arms quiver. Then she feels it. The cool metal shackle around her wrist.  
  
She sits right up. A groan and a gasp fight in her lungs, manifesting as some strangled inhuman noise coming out of her gaping mouth. Lupe stares around and something is strange. She’d never seen this place before. The room is large, clean, almost homey. It has medical supply cabinets lining the walls. But it doesn’t look like any infirmary she knows. This one has crown moulding, chic bamboo shades on the windows, and cream walls with tasteful wood accents. It looks lived in and loved.  
  
She tries to rub her head, an ache spreading and shaking through her, but the shackle is there to stop her. Staring down at the gleaming metal, there’s an acute disgust in her scowl. She yanks on it hard with a squeal of rage. Lupe huffs and visibly deflates. Rebuilding a slow scowl, she looks around the room again. She spots a woman in the corner, blonde, luxuriously round in so many soft and appealing ways, with glasses sitting on the tip of her nose.  
  
“¡Pinche mierda!” Lupe jumps. A hand is meant to go to her heart, but the metal clanks against the bed rail. Her eyes narrow at the bracelet again. “¡Me cago en tu madre!” she spits, shaking the rail with an uncontrollable outburst of anger. Lupe stops and remembers the woman. She turns back and she’s still up against the med cabinet, trying to flatten herself to a singularity.  
  
Lupe’s face goes blank. She’s unsure what to do here. “Uh, sorry,” she croaks.  
  
The blonde huffs out a nervous breath. An airy laugh follows and her voice is sweet, “Th-that’s okay! I bet this is all disorienting. Seems like you’ve been out there for a long time.”  
  
Lupe sighs. “How long?” she mutters, waiting for the axe to drop.  
  
The woman looks at her strangely, a smile strained by confusion.  
  
Lupe reflects the look. She glances around again. “Is this the Sanctuary?”  
  
The blonde frowns and kind of snorts. “I mean, sure, I guess.” She starts moving, unflattening and taking a few steps forward. “I’m a doctor and you’re in my infirmary. I just came in to check on you and arrange a few things. I’m sorry if I scared you.”  
  
Lupe looks on disinterestedly and shrugs. Blondie slowly approaches and Lupe gets a better look at her. Lupe’s trying not to be a total creep, but the woman is cute. She’s got the face of a sprite; pointy, but round, cheery, but fierce. Maybe Negan finally got tired of Carson being such an asshole. Lupe hopes this doctor might be okay.  
  
“What happened to the old doc? He dead now? Fucked up too bad finally?” Lupe’s throat is tighter than she wants it to be, her voice squeezing out. She shakes her head and bites her lips shut so hard she tastes blood. She will not cry. Not in front of any of them ever again. Negan may get lucky enough to have her body one more time, but he’ll never again have her.  
  
The blonde gives her another weird look with her quirked head. “Uh, you think I can ask you a few questions?”  
  
Gritting her teeth, Lupe mutters, “Yeah, fine.” She accepts the doctor’s curiosity, but she doesn’t like it. Lupe’s curious too, she has no idea what is happening. This doesn’t seem real. There’s a soft glow about the place, like she’s in the After portion of a antidepressant commercial. Medication was super, but reality didn’t ever look like this.  
  
“Do you know what day it is?” the doctor asks impersonally.  
  
Lupe blinks for a long time. “I dunno, the 15th of Murder in the year of the Undead?”  
  
The blonde snickers. “Alright fair. How about the season?”  
  
Lupe shrugs tiredly. “Approaching the weird mix of summer interrupting fall, maybe winter soon.”  
  
The blonde nods. “Your name?”  
  
Lupe bites her lip, something crawls around inside of her, writhing in discomfort. “Do I really have to do this?” her words crumble around themselves. She looks over at the blonde, who truly appears concerned. Lupe almost smiles at her. The doc needs to blot out all that sweetness if she wants to survive this world. “Can’t he just get all the suspense over with?” her voice is so tired it shakes. “I’m done with it. All of it. Just tell him I’m awake so he can just finish this…”  
  
“Who?”  
  
The voice is gruff and comes from the archway. It’s source has an open door closing behind his back. Lupe zeroes in and everything about him sends her nervous system into overdrive. Her eyes widen and her chest heaves to breathe. Her lips curl back over grit teeth. She doesn’t recognize this Savior. He’s scraggily and dirty to an almost obscene point. Dark, stringy hair covers half his face and a sparse, pale beard covers the other half. He wears the classic Savior uniform: thick boots, dark jeans, dark shirt, and leather. Though he’s got an extra inner layer with his unbuttoned flannel. His personal flare seems to be cutting the arms from all his shirts. Likely because of the size of his biceps, as they stick out in the room like beacons. The classic black leather comes in the form of a vest, resting on his shoulders and looking like it never once comes off. He’s got no weapons at his waist, though. Lupe’s not sure if that means he’s really ignorant, or proves he’s confident and a threat.  
  
Lupe doesn’t know how long she’d been gone from the Sanctuary. Or what happened for it to become this weird homemaker-hell. No matter how much time passed, she never thought Negan would believe some rookie would be a good choice to guard her. It’s basically an insult.  
  
Lupe snorts and looks at the doctor. “Please tell me you’ve been around longer than this shit-heel. How new is he?” She scoffs and looks at the scraggily white boy with shoulders like the scales of justice. “Did you miss the orientation or something?” She stars at him incredulously. “‘Who?’”  
  
The doctor laughs tentatively to cut through the tension. “You don’t have to worry about Daryl. He’s just here to make sure I don’t abscond on my duties and escape to the beach.” She smirks over at the greasy one, Daryl.  
  
Lupe’s gaze flashes around the room for a bit. Her eyes flicker the most towards Daryl. He just shakes his head with a gruff chuckle for the doc and starts gnawing on his nail. Lupe’s head tilts gently and she gets distracted by him. He’s almost relaxed. She still can’t pick out the bulge of a weapon on him anywhere. That’s an advantage.  
  
Lupe looks down at the rectangular metal tray, covered with some non invasive instruments next to her bed. It’s in her hand and hurled across the room before she really contemplates what she’s doing. But it hits home, right in the center of this Daryl’s forehead, braining him with a gong. It echoes through the space as both his body and the tray clatter to the floor.  
  
“Oh shit!” the doctor gasps.  
  
Lupe is already climbing off the bed. “It’s alright. All Saviors are fucking scum anyway,” she snarls, glaring at Daryl as a heap, not moving an inch. “We’re gonna get the fuck out of here. Just let me dislocate my thumb.”  
  
“No!” the doctor shouts, hands up to stop Lupe as she grips the digit. She looks up at the doc in confusion.  
  
“‘No’ what? We have to go!” Lupe almost screams. “We have to get out of here before Negan comes!” Her voice warbles violently saying his name out loud again. It’s so bad it shakes the rest of her body into a shiver. The metal cuff on her quivering arm rattles against the bedrail like a buzz. Lupe grips her thumb hard and grits her teeth.  
  
“Don’t!” the doctor finally screams and it makes Lupe freeze. “Don’t — don’t hurt yourself! It’s okay.” She swallows nervously. “I’m Denise. I’m a doctor, right?” Both Denise and Lupe nod together. Denise frowns. “Who’s Negan and what’s a Savior?” Her brows wobble, the tension obvious. “Why did you frisbee of death Daryl? Why are you so willing to pop your thumb out of its socket?”  
  
Lupe fully frowns. She slowly straightens up out of her defensive stance and it seems to relax this Denise a bit. She takes in a slow breath, watching the doctor. She’s looking right back, carefully considering something. Lupe comes to a quick conclusion. One that worries her severely. These people didn’t know who Negan is. They don’t know who the Saviors are. Even if one of them dresses like the president of their fan club.  
  
Lupe’s voice is small and tentative as it shakes its way out, “You said this was The Sanctuary.”  
  
“The Sanctuary?” Denise blinks. “Like as in a title and not general place of refuge?” Lupe doesn’t reply. She doesn’t want them to have to know what she does. Thankfully, Denise keeps talking. “Our safe zone is called Alexandria. Daryl found you in the woods out while he was hunting with Aaron.” She waves her hand casually over to where Daryl remains unconscious, but neither of them are paying him any attention. They’re still sizing each other up. Anxiously.  
  
Denise is careful as she continues, “They brought you here because you’d been suffering from exposure, malnutrition, dehydration, and exhaustion. You passed out on the side of the road.”  
  
Lupe blinks. She regrets being on the sweet brink of death and missing out. Frowning she continues to stare at Denise. Sweet, but seriously talkative, much like the wives. Something twists in Lupe’s gut, an anxious, sad pull that yearns to know if they are okay, if any of them are okay. She misses Arat and Joey. She misses the laundry ladies, and Lozano. They had been so good to Alma. They were good to her too, but she can’t think about them anymore. It has to be done with. This ignorance of Negan and his Saviors makes Lupe more devoted to ensuring these people keep it and cherish it. Denise would be an immediate target for him. A hot doctor? Double whammy.  
  
Denise breaks Lupe out of her distracted thoughts. “They thought you might be dead until you tried to kill Daryl...”  
  
Lupe cringes, remembering the hazy shadow that had loomed over her. She thought it was death, coming for her in one way or another. The smell of blood, leather, and decay was in the air, sharp, and poignant. She could remember thinking she was gonna die. An immense guilt festers in her stomach along with all the anxiety.  
  
“The first time at least,” Denise snorts at Lupe easily, like it wasn’t all that big of a deal. Denise tries to smile at her reassuringly. Lupe’s still just struggling to accept that the Saviors don’t have her. That Negan isn’t about to walk right through that door and take her again. He would be such a monstrous asshole to engineer something like that to trick her. He’d enjoy lulling her into a false sense of safety. Too bad. She doesn’t feel safe. She doesn’t think she ever will.  
  
Denise sighs and then opens her mouth to say something. Her eyes pop open and her whole body jolts with them. “Oh shit, Daryl!”  
  
Denise scampers over to him and starts to check him out. All of his limbs seem to undamaged by the fall. And since he was leaning against the counter on impact, he didn’t really drop straight down. His was more of a slow descent, sliding down the cabinets until his splayed body looked like a crash test dummy after the MythBusters were done with him. Aside from the uncomfortable looking position and the massive goose egg on his forehead, Daryl seems fine. Denise sighs in relief.  
  
“So…” Lupe starts, “He’s not a Sav —,” she clamps her teeth on her tongue and breathes, “he — he wont hurt us?”  
  
Denise jumps, Lupe stands right next to her, sans handcuffs. While Denise glances at her, she pops her thumb back into place. Denise cringes and instantly forgets the question asked. “You didn’t have to hurt yourself.”  
  
Lupe almost laughs as she looks at Denise, like it was the strangest thing to say. She shrugs. “Doesn’t really even hurt anymore.” She rolls her shoulders, trying to shake off the memories of hands that would grab her, hold her down, and clap the cuffs on her.  
  
Denise gives her a sad, compassionate type of look.  
  
Lupe further evades the proffered sentiment. She’d like to steer clear of the entire concept of feelings for the rest of her short miserable life. She frowns down at the Savior-copy. “I didn’t kill him, did I?”  
  
“Nah, Daryl’s tough.” Denise tugs on his legs to get him flat on his back. Lupe rushes back to her bed. Denise rolls Daryl onto his side. She doesn’t like to mess with head injuries, and she bets choking on vomit is a miserable way to die. A fluffy white pillow pops into her vision. She looks up and Lupe crouches next to her, holding it out. She shakes it silently and Denise gets the message. Denise smiles up at Lupe as she takes it, then places it underneath Daryl’s head.  
  
Once completed, Denise wipes her hands on her jean clad knees and smiles. “That was quite a bit of excitement! How about you sit down for me and we can finish the exam. I’m surprised you’re conscious, let alone up and about.”  
  
Lupe snorts. “Well, you don’t reach the state I was in without learning to manage your exertion,” she grumbles, looking at the ground. “Not like anyone starves to death staying in place these days.” She blinks and the big, black boots pop out at her. Her chest constricts. She tries not to see him as a Savior. It’s haunting, like he’s a distorted image in a mirror reflecting her rapist and her sister’s killer. Lupe tries for compassion, but the tone is sour, “Is he ok on the floor?”  
  
“Yeaaaaaah!” Denise leans into the word and waves a sure hand as they crouch. “He’ll be fine.“ She smiles. Then she tilts her head, her lips turning into a squiggly down turn. Her eyebrows flow along with her hands, weighing the invisible options. “Maybe he’ll be a little pissed when he wakes up.” She shrugs. “But Daryl is always a bit pissed.” Lupe holds back a smile.  
  
They start to stand when Daryl flinches and groans. Denise immediately leans forward towards him. Lupe skitters away like a cat on ice. Her reaction is faster and more innate, but not graceful. Denise gently tries to rouse Daryl. Lupe’s trying to decide if it’s worth going for the door.


	15. Chapter 15

Daryl sits up slow with Denise’s help. He blinks at her, eyes fluttering as he looks around. He sees Lupe, crouching close to his feet and jumps. A knife is suddenly in his hand and she’s scrambling for the medical tray on the floor. She turns on him, holding it up like shield, her eyes just barely peering above it and afire with determination.  
  
“Daryl calm down! You’re scaring her!” Denise tries to placate him.  
  
He’s blinking. Staring at and through Lupe as she cowers. “Scaring her!?” Daryl snarls, “Captain America over there tried to kill me! Twice! I need a tank around her!”  
  
With the metal infant of her face, Lupe’s voice echoes and shakes, “I’m sorry, I thought —,” she doesn’t complete the sentence. She can’t. If they don’t know about him, she might have travelled far enough to be safe. Aside from the name Alexandria, a vague title that people can just pick willy nilly, she has no idea where she wandered off to. Looking at these two, an interaction that is mutually respectful, joking, and caring, it’s almost jarring to her. This place could be the real deal. Where people might be decent to one another. There is a deep well of grief that echoes through her at the thought. Lupe stares at Daryl wide-eyed while Denise checks him.  
  
He’s staring back at her. Well, he’s trying. His eyes are still rolling around in his head a little bit. He looks at Denise and his statement is a little breathless, “You let her out of her cuffs?”  
  
Denise grins down at Daryl. “She slipped them!”  
  
Daryl huffs again, looking back at Lupe and still not sure what to do. He does decide to put away his knife. Lupe mirrors him, lowering the tray she used to bludgeon him.  
  
Denise chuckles at the interaction. “Ok, everyone to a bed! Except for me, because now I have to keep Daryl under observation for 24 hours.”  
  
Lupe cringes and mutters a quick apology.  
  
Daryl huffs, “Shit, I can do it fine on my own.” He clambers up to his feel and his knees go so wobbly both Denise and Lupe rush to catch him before he falls. “M’fine!” he grumbles like a child as they swoop under his long arms.  
  
“Let’s get you to the cot.” Denise smiles at Daryl. “You deserve a day off.”  
  
“And a concussion?” Daryl snipes.  
  
Lupe cringes again. “I’m sorry. I really am,” her timid voice is forced not to shake. She’s too close to Daryl and she wants to scream. She can smell the tobacco on his breath and it’s an old and strange comfort. Her dad and grandpa both smoked like chimneys and always had that lingering aroma. She gets a quick huff of cinnamon and vanilla and thinks it’s Denise. She tries to focus on that smell, familiar and sweet. She wants to get it back, but it doesn’t linger like him. “I didn’t —,”  
  
“Yeah, yeah,” Daryl grumbles, “whatever girlie.”  
  
Lupe frowns at that, but she’ll let it slide this time. He did probably have one hell of a concussion. The bump on his head is already swollen and looking bruised. He could have that tiny win of condescension for the moment. “I just — thought you were someone else.” Lupe dares to look at him.  
  
He’s staring down at her, squinting. She sees an undeniable sharpness in his ridiculously blue eyes. She has a feeling he can see past a lot of bullshit and cut to the quick of someone. Lupe isn't sure she wants to be around him solely because of that stare. But if he wasn’t violent or cruel, if he wasn’t actually Savior material, she, at the very least, didn’t want to hurt him.  
  
“Also, you’re not allowed to complain because I can’t carry you myself,” Denise mutters from the other side, breaking them from their trance. “You’re lucky she’s here or else I would have let you drop like a rock just to prove a point.”  
  
They sit Daryl on the cot and Denise goes to grab him some water. Lupe stands there, numbly. Daryl is staring at her. She’s staring back at him. She realizes this should be uncomfortable. She goes to turn away, but she feels a hand on her elbow, just a tap. She whirls at the touch, but she doesn’t attack because Daryl let her go right away. She’s perturbed by the touch. It was gentle on her skin, barely even pressing. His touch was delicate and careful. She glared at him, confused.  
  
“M’sorry…” Daryl mumbles quickly, hands pulled back and up in surrender.  
  
Lupe nods and waits. He didn’t want her to leave for some reason.  
  
He looks up at her again, chewing on the inside of his cheek, his chin bobbing while he thought. “I get that you’re sorry,” he starts, his voice cutting through the air, a permanent growl, “but why’re you trying to kill me?”  
  
Lupe huffs, deflating from the exhaustion of constant tension. She looks down at Daryl and fights the quivering of her chin. “You almost look like someone I used to know. It scared me and I — just…can’t.”  
  
Daryl watches her, still gnawing away at his lip. His eyes squint further in thought and he opens his mouth to speak, but Denise interrupts him.  
  
“Water, drink it.” She hands a cup to Daryl. She hands one to Lupe and talks to her, “Well, honestly, you’re looking pretty good. I think I still need to keep you under observation for another few days or so. We’ve got to be careful about adjusting your diet and making sure you get enough nutrition and rest.” She nods and smiles. “I think you’re also good to shower if you like. There’s full bath down the hall.”  
  
Lupe got used to some luxuries at The Sanctuary. The water wasn’t always warm, but it was usually running and clean. She stopped minding lukewarm baths, especially because Tanya managed to make it enjoyable with all her soap magic.  
  
“Hot water will last about twenty minutes,” Denise says offhand. “Towels are in the cabinet by the door in the bathroom.”  
  
Lupe’s glad she finished swallowing her water, because her mouth drops open. Her knees go weak. “H-h-hot water? Twenty minutes of it?”  
  
Both Daryl and Denise look at her. “Yeah, enjoy the heck out of it!” Denise’s smile quirks, one eye squinting into half a wink, and adds, “For twenty minutes at least.”  
  
A huge grin splits Lupe’s face. Her arms curl in at her chest and she bounces in glee. She goes to turn, but feels that feather light touch on her elbow again. Her head snaps to the source. That strange anomaly. The walking contradiction that made her want to scream and shiver all at once. She didn’t understand why he was so soft when he looked so hard.  
  
She struggles to keep the bite of irritation out of her tone. “What?”  
  
“What’s yer name?” Daryl asks, smoke, gravel, and a missing muffler, his realm of timbre.  
  
Lupe freezes. Her eyes wander and she finds a window. She frowns. There’s a creek and a pond. A goddamn gazebo. A boulder formation. It looks like a park at a library.  
  
“Rock...”  
  
Daryl’s face screws up in confusion.  
  
Lupe looks down at him. She looks over at Denise and a panic sets in. “Rock...Lee.... Rockly”  
  
Daryl’s replies lightning fast, “Fuck kinda name is Rockly?”  
  
“Daryl…” Denise chastises him, biting her lips as her shoulders shake.  
  
Lupe looks at him stone faced. “My parents were super devoted to Konoha.” Her eyes flutter to Denise who’s fist presses to her lips, hiding a big smile. Lupe knows it’s a really bad cover, but she panicked. No one expects another anime fan at the end of the world. Some warmth kindles in her chest because of it though. It almost spooks her. Lupe hadn’t felt a goddamn thing in months.  
  
Daryl’s still looking at her like she’s got two heads. “Is that like... a god?”  
  
Lupe just arcs her eye brows and makes a noncommittal wiggle of her body. Denise goes back to work with her lips bitten shut and Daryl sits on the cot, occasionally poking his head. Lupe goes back to her hospital bed, staring at the cuffs and hoping she doesn’t have to wake up with them on her ever again.  
  
She sighs, sitting down hard. She thinks about the shower and figures that will be her best bet. She can’t smell herself anymore, but she feels pretty damn ripe. Her hair moves like it is one whole object, like a giant foam cowboy hat perched on her head. She’s not sure the entire District of Colombia has enough conditioner to fix it. She fingers what looks like ninety percent rats and sighs again. She closes her eyes to erase the sounds and the feelings of gentle fingers combing through her hair. The chattering of Spanish in her ears as her sister styled it. The thoughts fade into rough hands tugging her braid, her heels scattering across smooth concrete as she snarled and clawed at her captors.  
  
Lupe looks at Denise, her jaw set tight. “You got hair clippers?”  
  
Denise jumps from the accidentally barked question, but looks over at Lupe. Her eyes trail along the room in thought. She nods her head. “I think they might be in the bathroom actually. Check under the sink.”  
  
Suddenly possessed by the need to act, Lupe is up and out of her bed in a flash. It takes her a few tries to find the bathroom, but once inside she gets what she wants. A knock sounds at the door and startles her. She cradles the object against her chest like she was caught stealing it. There was no voice behind the door for several seconds. Lupe slowly walks over and opens it up a crack, seeing a stack of clothing and toiletries left on the floor. She quickly scrambles to get them. She places them on the toilet, ignoring their presence for the moment.  
  
She goes back to the mirror. She holds the buzzer in her hand and stares at herself, searching her eyes and face for something, anything familiar. She’s a mess of what once was. Anger courses through her because of her hair. Her own goddamn hair. Growing up, her and Alma’s hair had always been such a prize. Their favorite past time was sitting and chatting, brushing or braiding each other’s hair. Sometimes they would lay next to each other, head to head, cheek to cheek, with their hands up and in each others strands as it splayed on the ground. It was long, black, thick, and relatively straight, just like their mother, her mother, and their ancestors that came before them. The strands could easily get coarse, but if they were treated right, they would shine on a night without moonlight.  
  
Lupe had gotten plenty of haircuts when she was younger. Mostly trims, because for whatever reason, cutting her hair was a personally devastating experience. As a child she worried she’d no longer be the same without all those split ends. Later on, Alma would hold her hands, reassuring her through the strange but tumultuous emotions. It was such a comfort.  
  
Lupe can’t shake the memories of his hands burning through to the ends. He’d drag her, control her, and position her in ways that made her feel like a broken doll, held together with scotch tape and one miserable hope. She shudders back into blankness. Her hair is tainted. With his fingers forever coursing through her locks, she’s stuck in place, like the strands are her very own chains. She stares at the buzzer again and unravels the wire.  
  
Her skin is tainted too, but there wasn’t much to do about that. She could feel it though. Fingertips and heated lips left impressions on her so deep they would never fade away. She can’t see a single one of the marks he liked to leave on her after she became his victim. All faded. Her free hand rises up shakily and gently lays on the place where her shoulder meets her neck. She can still feel his teeth.  
  
She closes her eyes and her hand squeezes away the sharpness of his bite on her skin. Shuddering, she clicks on the buzzer pushes it through the middle of her head. It takes a while for her other hand to feel like it has done its job compressing the memory. It then joins in on her other task, which is removing all of her hair as quickly as possible. Her eyes are screwed shut and she grits her teeth. Her hair used to mean something to her, but she needed to be rid of it. This time, she did not shed a single tear.  
  
She doesn’t bother to look in the mirror after. She does her best to scoop everything up and places it in a nearby bucket that she hopes is for trash. After trying to pick up all the little thick needles of hair left over, she finally turns on the shower.  
  
The heat of it floods the room and she’s suddenly transported back to a time when she felt civilized and real. Stepping into the spray, she gasps and her face turns up. Her hands rub across the short stubble and scrubbed her scalp of his touch. Scouring sins away until she felt like nothing was left inside of her to care. She might be empty, soul stolen by the devil himself, but he would not have the rest of her. She was pretty sure she took up the entire twenty minutes. But she was clean.  
  
She puts on the clothes she got from outside the bathroom door. She really appreciates that. She didn’t have any other clothes. She left her black dress in the walker pit, only kept the ones she stole from the Saviors she killed and let turn. She has a deep desire to watch those get eaten up by flames. The new pants are loose cotton and the shirt is plain and oversized. Relieved, she doesn’t want to deal with all the questions that might arise if she wears something tight and people see the ridges on her stomach. Her step towards the door is frozen by a single thought. She really hopes none of them saw her scars. Gritting her teeth, she exits the bathroom and walks back over to her bed.  
  
“Whoa!” Denise’s voice was a pop in the silence. Lupe looks up at the sound, her eyes barely blinking and nervous. Denise approaches, her eyes just as wide, but looking more shocked. The smile on her face looks a little amazed. Her hands rise to Lupe’s head, but she doesn’t touch her. “You have like the perfect head.”  
  
Lupe actually laughs. The trilling sound shocks both Denise and Daryl who glance at each other in surprise. They were scared they’d never see joy out of her.  
  
“Thanks I suppose.” Lupe grins. She turns towards the bed slowly and then whips back towards Denise. With a shy smile, she holds out her hands with the old clothes in them and asks, “You wouldn’t happen to have an incinerator would you?” There are slight blank stares until Lupe forces out a chuckle. “Of course, a bucket and some matches would be great too. A cannon…”  
  
“Clothes ain’t in bad condition —,”  
  
“I should burn them,” Lupe cuts off Daryl. Her eyes too serious. “They need to be destroyed.”  
  
“Oh-kay!” Denise replies and goes to grab a bag. “Put them in here and we can throw them in a bonfire later or something.” She opens it up and Lupe lets it all slide in.  
  
Once Lupe’s hands are empty she stares at them. Something is wrong. Her head pops up and glances around the room. “The gun,” she bites out. She turns towards Daryl. He was the one who supposedly found her. He was the one she wasted her last bullet on. A snarl curls on her lips. “Where the fuck is the gun!?”  
  
Denise takes a step back and looks at Daryl too. The woman hadn’t had a gun on her when she came in.  
  
Daryl stands up slowly and glares. “In the armory. We took it from you after you tried to blow my brains out.”  
  
Lupe swallows heavily, but a frantic rage burrows in her chest. She can’t be without that gun. She needs it. It was all she had. “Give it back,” her tone is just a shade too deadly.  
  
“Nah,” Daryl’s voice is almost soft, but there’s a tinge of lofty annoyance, something like a challenge, “you can get it back when you earn our trust.”  
  
Lupe stomps forward, snarling, “I don’t want your worthless fucking trust, I wan’t my goddamn gun!” She doesn’t stop, she’s ready to break his entire face in or strangle him with her socks if she has to.  
  
Denise jumps between them and Lupe immediately halts. “Hey!” she says softly, hands up.  
  
Daryl’s eyes narrow. Denise isn’t exactly tough. Lupe, with her new Ripley look, seems like a forest fire to him. If she passes through, he worries nothing would be left. But she stopped when Denise got in her way. She could have pushed Denise around. She could have hit her, hurt her, or taken her as a hostage. Done something Daryl couldn’t stop cause he was too far away. But she stopped. She didn’t want to hurt Denise. That means something, but he’s not sure what.  
  
Lupe struggles to peel her eyes off of Daryl. He’s a ghost of an insistent threat. She doesn’t think she can be around him and be civil. He’s too close to her nightmares. Lupe looks at Denise instead, she’s still currently radiating softness and security.  
  
“We’re not really allowed to have weapons inside the walls,” Denise says, smiling tightly at the death glare on Lupe’s face. “I didn’t know you had a gun or I would have let you know. I don’t keep any weapons in the infirmary really,” she adds, looking at Daryl pointedly regarding his knife.  
  
“An obvious mistake,” Lupe grumbles. Denise chuckles. Surprisingly, Daryl’s lip quirks up at the corner. Lupe’s eyes go suddenly and dangerously wide as she looks at Denise. “Wait! I’m sorry, what!?” She gapes and grabs Denise’s shoulders shakily. “Why the fuck aren’t each and every one of you armed to the fucking teeth at all times?” Her tone goes hard and deliberate, “The dead are out there! Trying to eat us!” She huffs air in and out as she pulls away from Denise. She can’t look at Daryl, she’s intensely angry at him for everything for some reason. Her arms curl around herself and she spits, “And there’s so much worse out there than just the dead.”  
  
Daryl pipes in at that, “What’s worse than getting eaten alive?”  
  
Lupe stares him right in the face, her tone pure derision, “People, numbnuts.” He scoffs with a face pinched by annoyance.  
  
Denise fails to restrain her chuckles and sputters. She apologizes and then sobers. “If your gun is in the armory, it’s safe.” She guides Lupe back over to the bed. “I really think that you should at least sit down. I know you’re tougher than nails, but you’ve still been through a lot. You need rest and recovery time.”  
  
Lupe nods and concedes. She doesn’t want to cause Denise too much trouble. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, plopping onto the hospital bed.  
  
Denise shakes dismissive hands at her. “Don’t worry. Like I said,” she makes a pointed look at Daryl, “you’ve been through a lot. We can take it easy tonight. Tomorrow will be worse.”  
  
“Worse?” Lupe’s voice cracks.  
  
Denise cringes. She hadn’t meant to say that. She sighs. “Well, you’ll meet the leaders of Alexandria, Deanna and Rick. Plus their advisors, Maggie, Michonne,” she huffs out a heavy breath and waves a hesitant arm over, gesturing, “and Daryl.” She smiles tightly at Lupe. “Consider it an interview.” Denise says with a cheerful tone. That just makes it kind of worse. Interviews suck. Daryl scoffs and leans back on his bed. “Hey, no sleeping yet!” she hisses at him and he grumbles at her.  
  
Lupe closes her eyes and sighs, whispering to herself, “¿Qué chingados me he metido ahora?”


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning, Denise and Daryl walk Lupe over to what they called the Main House. Evidently, Deanna the original leader of Alexandria, lives there with her husband, Reg, and her grown son Spencer. Lupe is told she recently lost her other son and is still grieving. She tucks that information away for later and follows obediently. It’s all a bit too surreal. Alexandria looks like a collage. Picturesque, everything plucked right out of a Home and Garden magazine. The houses are extravagant, with the sort of exclusive technology only rich people used to be able to utilize to ‘save’ the planet. They have grass and gardens. They have children. Playing. Back at the Sanctuary people had kids, but most of them had to abide by a shitty adage of: not seen, not heard. Here at Alexandria, the teenagers hang out on a real-life gazebo to trash talk. She actually saw someone walking a baby around in a stroller. She almost threw up. An actual goddamn baby with leg rolls and all. She couldn’t believe it.  
  
Lupe sits in an overstuffed chair, glancing between eight eyes watching her like a really judgmental spider. There’s a set of heavy glass coasters on the table. Several statues on the shelves. Lupe is pretty sure she spied a letter opener on the desk. She imagines Deanna would be easy to kill. The others have fleeting gazes like her own. She might be able to take them, especially because of that silly ass rule about no weapons inside the walls. It would be an effort to escape, but she could if she needed to. That Rick guy is looking at her like she has a bomb strapped to her. It eventually makes her feel that way.  
  
“It’s nice to finally see you conscious.” Deanna smiles.  
  
Lupe grins back tightly. She can already hear the politician in her tone. Lupe doesn't like politicians. It wasn’t because she disliked political theory. She was a history buff after all. But she despised politicians. The first ones to come over to this land were the same, aiming to use and consume. To mould the earth and its people into something that they could profit from. Problem was, the earth and its people don’t belong to anyone but themselves. Instead of aiming for peace, they want dominion. Politicians were colonizers, more recently with laws and words. A ‘great' advancement from small pox blankets and purging the buffalo to force starvation.  
  
“It’s nice to be conscious, I guess,” Lupe replies. She looks up at the group and both Maggie and Rick give a soft little huff of appreciation. Daryl’s watching her with narrowed eyes. Michonne has a neutral expression, which just makes her look like even more of a post apocalyptic goddess.  
  
“Glad you think so. I tend to waver back and forth when I wake up in the morning,” Deanna chuckles lightly. Lupe politely mimics her. Deanna looks her up and down with a curious glint. She reaches back behind her seat while asking, “Would you mind if I record this? For posterity?”  
  
“I do,” Lupe spits, hard and fast. Her eyes scan the room as suspicion starts to bloom across each and every face.  
  
“Why?” Maggie asks. She’s overly pretty. One of those perfect girls. She even had a thick, country girl accent that makes a person feel like home.  
  
Lupe chews on her lip. “Kinda like the internet, you know?” Most of the faces are older than her, except for Maggie and maybe Michonne. She isn’t sure if any of them bothered with the internet before. Lupe lived a bit of an isolating life, so her community often formed online. “Once it’s out there you can’t ever really take it back.” She also couldn’t risk _him_ finding this place and ever seeing proof that she survived.  
  
Rick glares. “You got something to hide? Don’t want a record of you?”  
  
“Did you?” she snarls right back, making Rick’s eyebrows pop up sharply. Lupe bites her lips shut and stares at her hands.  
  
Deanna laughs, looking at Rick. “She read you like a book.” With an appreciative glance, Deanna sits back in her chair. “Suppose a voice recording would suffice?”  
  
Lupe closes her eyes and shakes her head. Her chest burns like a furnace. That woman is dead and she needed to stay dead. Nothing of her could be left behind. It’s why whenever Lupe encountered Saviors after her escape, she evaded them and left them alive. A trail lined with corpses was an easy path to follow. She just wants to disappear and no one seems willing to let her. She lives a futile, fleeting life now, feeling dead, but forced to keep breathing. “No. Please,” she bites out, restraining her growl.  
  
Michonne is the first to look truly concerned and not suspicious. Lupe coils in on herself, trying to stay calm while something else is screaming across her nerves. “I used to be a lawyer.” Michonne offers, her voice deep like the glut of honey and wine. “I know shorthand.”  
  
Lupe looks up at her cautiously. “Could you put me as anonymous? Just no name and no real description?” She looks around the group. The suspicion was high, but she can’t do what they ask. She can’t risk it. She worries they’ll force her. Rick looks like he’d rip someones spine out with his bare hands in order to protect what’s his. Lupe bets no one ever even sees Michonne or Daryl coming. Maggie is probably a brawler. She looks like she’s got a lot of rage tucked under that brunette bob. And Deanna, she’d probably slit someone’s throat with a smile if it got her what she really wanted.  
  
“What are you so scared of?” Rick’s questions growls out.  
  
The scruff, the dark slicked back wavy hair, and those radiant eyes. She’s thankful he has the dramatic southern drawl and is shorter. If he was taller, sounded like a bigger asshole, and wore a leather jacket, she might have run head first into the undead’s open mouths. Rick has something dark inside himself, but she doesn’t think he likes it. Rick would probably do anything, anything, but he doesn’t seem like the type to relish in destruction in the same way.  
  
Lupe looks around the room. She could grab the coasters and start chucking. If she got the statue of the cello off the shelf, it’d fit nicely into someone’s jugular. There were vases and knick knacks, things that fit in the palms of her hands that could bludgeon or jab. She could end it. She could end it all right here and just get out. She had to get out. Kill or Die. Kill or Die. Kill or…  
  
“Everything!” Lupe shouts, an explosion of agony in one single word. She huffs dangerously close to sob. Her hands grip her knees and she closes her eyes to stop her vision from spinning. Her grit teeth creak against one another. She tries to breathe, but her body just doesn’t want to anymore. In a slow and shaky deflation, Lupe drops her face into her hands. “I’m afraid of everything.” She is so tired her tone even droops. One of her elbows slowly slips off her knee. Her body melts with the loss of support, like she’s going make a puddle on the ground.  
  
“Hey, s’alright…” Gravel. Pure gravel. His hands are just one big callous by now, but he is just so soft. She doesn’t understand how he can do it. “Don’t go boneless on me now.”  
  
Lupe chuckles, but it kind of sounds like crying. She won’t split hairs about it. Gently leaned back in the chair, her eyes raise up to Daryl and stare, expectant, like he’s a reaper. His touches edge her closer and closer into a pit she will not want to climb out from. She hates feeling comforted by him. She hates feeling human. “Why are you here? Not afraid I’m gonna try to kill you again?”  
  
“You’d’ve already tried if you wanted to,” Daryl replies fast. “Plus, it’ll be a lot harder to kill me now I know it’s comin’.” His sniping tone quirks her lip. He realizes he’s actually pretty glad to see it. He thinks back on what Aaron said. He had to realize that some experience put her in this position. Deanna and Rick may think they’re privy to that kind of thing, but Daryl doesn’t think that’s fair. Sometimes things were better left as secrets. “You settle down now, I don’t wanna have to keep carrying you around.”  
  
Her head swivels and a frown curves her brow. “Why? You weak?”  
  
Daryl leans in, his face bending towards stern. “I’ve wrestled gators that’d think you were a snack. Took down a nearly three hundred pound buck and carried it back on my shoulders for miles.” His eyes are a strange kind of fierce, a narrow challenge that Lupe isn’t sure she can take. “I brought you into this place. I can take you out.”  
  
Lupe stares at him for a long time. Her pursed lips took ages to spread out into a smile. Her shoulders shake and a throaty laugh bubbles out. She leans forward into Daryl’s space. He doesn’t flinch. She appreciates that. Her smile is teasing and her tone is blunt, “I can’t tell if that was a threat or a pick up line.”  
  
Daryl doesn’t respond immediately, but his lips do that quirk thing. He shakes his head and stands up. “Yer still healin’ don’t get all riled up.”  
  
Lupe now has an elbow on the chair, her face back in her hand. “Tell them that,” she scoffs.  
  
Daryl sits at the window ledge close by. He’s feeling fine now despite the lump on his head. He knew she wasn’t though. She was in a bad way when he and Aaron found her. Even though Rick didn’t want them recruiting anymore, they couldn’t have left her out there. Once she looks settled, he nods to Rick.  
  
Rick looks back at Michonne. “Anonymous and a hand written account. We can all sign it together as witnesses for the archives. If you’ll be comfortable marking X —,”  
  
Michonne immediately interrupts with a hand on his shoulder, “Baby, don’t ask a brown person to sign their name as X.”  
  
Rick looks at her, haunted and immediately nods. “You’re right. That was a thoughtless move on my part.” He looks over at Lupe, “I apologize.”  
  
He seems legitimately sincere. Lupe nods at him, but her face is screwed up with a weary shock. “If you want, I can use a fake name?” she suggests.  
  
“What, like Rockly?” Daryl quickly spits back. It isn’t cruel, he’s just challenging her lie.  
  
She gives him half of an appreciative smile. “Sure, like Rockly.”  
  
“Whas’yer real name?” Daryl asks, his tone sharp, but still not aggressive.  
  
Lupe looks at him and swallows. “Can I do that one last?”  
  
He squints at her again. The assessing gaze of someone who knows both too much of this world and too little. He can see the fractures in her because he had his own. She didn’t want to know what he could see in-between those broken pieces. She didn’t even know what was left.  
  
“Alright.” Daryl nods.  
  
Deanna leans forward after observing that fascinating interaction. She does her best not to make a fuss, but she doesn’t think she’d seen Daryl say that much to anyone. Even Rick. “Would you share with us what you did before?”  
  
Lupe laughs softly and closes her eyes. “A lotta bit of everything. I worked at a grocery store for most of my life and bartended on some nights. Dabbled here and there with friends who were trying to make it through the week.”  
  
“Drugs?” Rick asks. Michonne scribbles on behind him, but she gives him a disapproving look.  
  
Lupe shakes her head with a pointed glare. “No. No drugs for me. Unless you count the occasional blunt.” A few people look scandalized. She rolls her eyes. “My apologies to the Puritan court, but spare me. Cannabis does wonders for my pain when opioids make me sick. And alcohol gives me migraines. Estoy muy malacopa.” She waves her hand and flutters her fingers. Everyone stares at her confusedly. She rolls her eyes again. “It isn’t a crime to know another language. It’s Spanish. It just means I’m like… a super lightweight. The extra jobs were mostly tutoring some friends who were trying to get degrees and shit. They paid me or we swapped services, like odd jobs and shit, that’s all. No need for white panic.”  
  
Michonne snorts as she writes, pursing her lips with eyebrows raised, appreciating their discomfort. A shame racism didn’t automatically die when everyone else did.  
  
“Why the grocery store?” Deanna asks, before anyone else can derail the conversation.  
  
Lupe shrugs. “Solid hours and benefits. Near home. I needed something rock steady.”  
  
“Did you live on your own?” Maggie asks.  
  
Lupe stills. She could share this information. No one at the Sanctuary knew anything about her past. Everyone she loved was dead, so it didn’t matter. “No, when I was seventeen, my dad got laid off. My parents passed away when I was twenty. After that it was just me and my little sister. I took care of her until all this shit happened.”  
  
“Where’s she now?” Rick asks, too bluntly. Everyone in the room looks at him and scowls.  
  
“She’s dead,” Lupe deadpans. She looks at Daryl. “That gun belonged to my sister. It’s important to me. I’m going to get it back.”  
  
“Is that a threat?” Deanna asks, but it isn’t a challenge. She sounds curious.  
  
Lupe doesn’t smile, even though she wants to. She lets her tone speak for itself, level and cutting, “It can be.” Maggie and Michonne grin a little at that.  
  
“So after the virus infected the majority of the population, what did you do?” Deanna continues.  
  
Lupe is exhausted, but she supplies the answers. “We stayed in our house for a while. We lived near Manassas. It’s not like, mind bogglingly huge or anything, just a standard town. As more people died, the area became unsafe. We decided that moving around was better than not. Got in my dad’s junker that’ll keep running even if the engine falls out. We lived in it and kept away from people and crowded areas.”  
  
“Just you and your sister?” Rick asks.  
  
Lupe can’t vocally respond. She might scream. She nods once.  
  
“When did she die?” Daryl asks, and his voice is so sympathetic, it hurt in a way she couldn’t stand.  
  
“R-Recently…” Her breath escapes her. “V-very recently.” She clears her throat and tries to blink the tears out of her eyes. “We were, uh,” Lupe has to swallow hard, she can’t think about that place anymore, “um, we were, uh, kidnapped. She was assaulted and succumbed to her injuries.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Daryl mutters. In the sunlight, the small scrapes along Lupe’s jaw shine almost iridescent. There’s set of scratches on her chin that are long and deep. Looked like someone took razor to her face. Daryl knows people get hurt in this world. Always have. Accidents happen. Mistakes are made. But his blood boiled when he thought about someone just out there to hurt people because they liked it.  
  
Daryl’s response was just the first in a sea of condolences. She looks at him though, hard. Out of everyone, he seemed to mean it the most. Like he knew. “Thanks,” Lupe’s reply rattles in her tight throat. She looks back at Deanna, resigned. “What else?”  
  
“These people who took you —,”  
  
“We’re not talking about that,” Lupe cuts Rick off sharply with a voice like a death sentence.  
  
“We found you close by, we need to know about threats,” he says in his own hard tone. His eyes change as he glares, flickering with that shadow.  
  
It’s curious to see him so incensed. Lupe doesn’t smile at him, because he doesn’t seem like the type to appreciate it. He holds himself like a cop and she has no real desire to tangle with that. “Threats are everywhere Rick. You’ll never eliminate them all. The people who took me and my sister don’t matter. I’m not even sure why I’m talking to four people I don’t trust, at all. It’s not like I can stay here —,”  
  
“Why not?” Maggie interjects. She’s got a gentle pout on her face.  
  
Lupe’s smile stalls. An incredulous bend forms on her brow. “Why not!? Those walls are flimsy. They’re made of sheet metal! I could crack one open with a can opener if I was pissed off enough. It’s also way too close to all your people. If it falls, everyone goes with it. You don’t even have guards on the wall! I doubt you have a perimeter set or people scouting the land. No traps, no signals, no sight lines…” Her breath stutters out and she’s trying not to keep going, but fails.  
  
Her veins thrum, but she doesn’t know with what. It feels like velocity and fearlessness on the brink of a cliff. She looks at them and laughs. “You won’t even let people have their own weapons! We got undead creatures yearning to devour us, bit by bit. We got humans,” she looks at Rick with a snarl, “and let’s all just agree: ‘nuff fuckin’ said… Your people should be taught how to use and respect weapons. There should be training and cooperation. Even for the children.” She looks at Deanna directly. “Have you ever even been outside the walls?”  
  
Deanna has a tight look about her lofty features. “I haven’t, not extensively.”  
  
Lupe extends her arm, her flat hand pointing at Deanna while she looks around at the others. “See? Why is someone who has no fucking clue about the outside world in charge? That’s not appealing to me!”  
  
Deanna clears her throat. Her eyes focus down on the table thoughtfully. After a moment she turns to Rick and speaks, “She said almost exactly what you said.”  
  
“She even had some better ideas,” Maggie interjects playfully.  
  
Rick shakes his head with a slow grin spreading on his face. He walks around the couch and sits himself on the coffee table, right in front of Lupe. Daryl catches her slow shift away from Rick. He’s going for direct and sincere, but she looks like she might throat punch him if he makes a single move closer.  
  
“I don’t know what you’ve been through,” Rick says to Lupe, “but I know what I’ve done. What I’ve lost.” He clears his throat through pursed lips, staring down at his clasped hands. “We’re trying to build something here, so that we don’t have to keep losing.” He looks at Lupe, she’s obviously wary and doesn’t like his proximity. It’s a useful tactic to throw off someone getting interrogated. A majorly shit move on someone who was recently assaulted though.  
  
Rick wants to be sure about Lupe before he allows her near his family. She’d already tried to kill Daryl twice. Though he couldn’t stop laughing when Denise relayed the second attempt to him. He had to bite his hand in the kitchen after Daryl walked in and Rick saw the knob on his head, barely covered by his scraggily bangs.  
  
A fond smile blooms on Rick’s lips. “It ain’t gonna be perfect. We can’t make that. But if we do it together, it’ll be far better than how it is and what it once was.” He continues, “What we want is a community. One that works together and protects each other.” He looks around at the people gathered and shakes his head sadly. “We lost a lot of people. Good people. We would do anything to try again, to do it over with what we know now.” His voice chokes slightly, his face tense with grief. Lupe couldn’t help but feel for him. Her throat squeezed with the agony of loss too. He levels her with a tern stare. “We’ve only survived because we found our family. Sometimes, we only survived directly because of their sacrifices.”  
  
Lupe bursts into tears.  
  
Everyone in the room freezes except for Maggie and Daryl. Daryl stands up, but moves no further, far too unsure of what to do. Maggie is at her side in a blink anyway, curling Lupe up in her arms.  
  
Maggie’s voice is soft and shaking in Lupe’s ear. “I lost my baby sister back in Georgia, before we came here.” Lupe curls further into Maggie’s warmth, instinctively hugging her back. “She was killed by people who kidnapped her, assaulted her, and forced her into indentured servitude. It’s hell, I’m sorry.” The words are garbled by pain.  
  
Lupe whispers through room-rattling breaths, “I—I protected my sister from it — whenever I could. I — I wouldn’t let them near her. I wouldn’t stop. So they locked me up. They hurt her precisely because I couldn’t help her.” Lupe shivers against Maggie. She looks up and there’s a horrifying reflection she sees in Maggie. One she wishes wasn’t there. Lupe’s voice thins out like a blade of grass, “She—she was so good. Genuinely good, you know?”  
  
There were more people out there, just like him waiting to stamp all the goodness out. Lupe would never escape him, and it made her ache with a despondent fear. She is hesitant, but looks around the room. Their eyes bore into her with a sense of understanding she’d rarely seen before. Something genuine.  
  
Lupe sniffles and chuckles emptily, tinged with sorrow. “She coulda stopped wars with a single tear…" She chokes on the rush of emotion, a whirling cesspool of her own failures.  
  
She knows they get it. All of them wear loss on their sleeve cause no more would fit anywhere else. It’s weighed though. She hears it in Maggie’s voice. She hears it in Rick’s. Michonne’s stretches her spine and makes her eyes clear. Daryl never seems to stop slogging his way through a jagged anger. They might want to build something beautiful, something for the future, but Lupe knows exactly what they’d do if they had the chance for payback.  
  
Lupe is beyond desperate for understanding, for compassion, for real human interaction. “I mean, I never deserved some of the shit I went through, not a damn thing.” She hiccups. “But I’ve never been good, you know?” Her hands shake as she stares at them, always feeling sprayed with red. “When someone hurts me?” Her lips twitch to snarl as she curls her quaking fingers into fists. A sorrow, a regret, and a rage force their way past her grit teeth, “I wanna see them bleed…”  
  
There’s a sudden vacancy in the room. Lupe asks the next question, and it is decidedly small and tired, “So why wasn’t it me?”  
  
“I put her killer down,” Daryl snarls suddenly, shocking the room with his suddenly heated presence. He’s twitching his fingers, jaw tight as he growls, “Maggie’s sister, Beth. Her killer? Shot her, right in the head."  
  
Lupe looks up at him abruptly, her crying stutters to a stop. The grating hatred in his voice resonates in her deeply. Right to the tune of what she knows about herself, the clarity of her rage. She huffs out a confused breath and watches him there. Reaching out with this strange admission that he’s a killer too. She doesn’t know why it makes her feel better. She tries to dissect this man who scares the pants off her with just a look. Yet every time he opens his mouth or touches her, she’s thrown for a loop.  
  
Maggie sniffles. “He did.” She looks at Daryl and smiles wide and proud. “He protected her for so long, gave her a good life until them.” Maggie nods with tears in her eyes. “We try for each other, don’t we? We try and we don’t stop.” She looks at Lupe. “Our family is our fortune. We — we all discovered it along the way.” She smiles sweetly with reddened eyes.  
  
Lupe sniffles and huffs out a tight breath, reigning in the agony that’s swirling inside of her. She wonders why she and Alma couldn’t have been found by these people first. Alma would have loved it here. She would have wanted to learn everything she could about their renewable energy sources. She would have looked at all the houses and collected knick knacks that came from department store shelves. She could have made Alexandria a home. Lupe isn’t sure she deserves that anymore without Alma.  
  
“Maybe you can stick around, heal up, see if you like it here,” Rick starts. Lupe blinks at him, wide eyed, not expecting that from him. “We want to build something meaningful. I wan’t something more for my children than a future full of blood and fear.” He looks at Lupe, his gaze and tone sincere, “We need everyone we can get to do it. We need survivors.” He exhales and half a smile perks his cheek. “Like you.”  
  
“Okay…” Lupe mutters. Maggie releases her, but stays perched on the arm of the big chair, a gentle hand rests on her shoulder.  
  
Rick leans forward one last time, his tone deadly, “I just have three more questions.”  
  
Lupe frowns at him, glancing around the room. Michonne and Maggie look like they are in on the secret, eager for Rick to continue. Deanna’s looking on, curious and engaged. Daryl stands to the side, staring at her intently and gnawing on his thumb. She turns back to Rick and nods. “Alright.”  
  
“How many walkers have you killed?”  
  
“7,337 since it started,” Lupe replies automatically. Everyone’s eyes go wide. “That was actually the last count before we got kidnapped. My sister and I had a competition going.” A fond smile bends at the painful thought.  
  
“Well, shit, alright,” Daryl replies. The group around him chuckles. Lupe’s cheek twitches with the burn of something strange under her skin.  
  
Rick leans in further, the small smile on his face wipes off and a scowl replaces it. With the way his eyes bore into Lupe, she knows this question might be the hardest one to answer. “How many people have you killed?”  
  
She swallows, but doesn’t look away from Rick. “326.”  
  
Everyone’s eyes go wider than when she gave her last answer. Except for Rick, he doesn’t miss a beat. He asks, “Why?”  
  
The change in her is palpable. Lupe leans forward, eyes going molten. “Two women out there alone? You know exactly why,” she snarls. “And I don’t feel guilty for a single, goddamn one,” she bites out.  
  
Maggie and Michonne have to restrain their smiles. Rick’s staring at her, neither happy or mad. His jaw is set, his eyes are clear, and he sits back. He nods to her once. “You can go now. Denise is waiting for you outside.”  
  
Lupe nods. She isn’t sure what all that was, but it’s thankfully over. She reaches the large archway that leads to the hall to the front door.  
  
“Hey,” Daryl’s voice calls out and makes her pause. “What’s yer name?”  
  
Lupe hangs her head. Her heart beats a mile a minute. She takes a deep breath and the air is filled with the smell of cinnamon and vanilla. Almost like buñuelos or churros. Her sister loved that smell. She had about a million candles and lotions and sprays and shit. She used so much she smelled like it for months after the world ended. Lupe looks around after the scent wafts away. No candles or air fresheners in sight. She laughs at herself and shakes her head, whispering, “Alma…¡Eres demasiado metiche!”  
  
Lupe turns around, trying to smile like her sister would have wanted. Trying to survive, like her sister would have, by being a part of something better. She looks at Daryl and gives him a sideways grin. “I’m Guadalupe, but most people butcher it and that makes me sad. So call me Lupe.” She looks around the rest of the room. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen good people. Not since the very beginning, if I’m going to honest.” She clears her throat, the cinnamon tingling on the back of her tongue. She smiles and shakes her head. “My sister would have wanted me to help. She always wanted to help.”  
  
Michonne steps forward, a gentle smile twitching on her lips. “At the very least, she would want you to recover safely. You don’t have to rush anything.” She looks around at Daryl, Rick, and Maggie. “We’ve all seen some shit, so even if you don’t want to talk about it, we’re still all here.”  
  
Lupe nods her thanks, and leaves.  
  
Lupe walks slowly out of the house and finds Denise sitting on the bottom step. When the door shuts, Denise turns.  
  
Squinting up at her with a grin, Denise asks, “Go alright?”  
  
Lupe shrugs. “I dunno, they asked me if I killed people. Which is weird to think that’s on my resume now.”  
  
Denise chuckles. “Yeah, well, you aren’t the only one. We’ve all gotten our hands dirty.” She stands and brushes her hands on her pants. “Let’s go see a woman about a gun.”  
  
Lupe nods, not entirely listening, looking down at her hands. Clean as they may be, it wasn’t the dirt she was really worried about.


	17. Chapter 17

A week passes in Alexandria. Lupe has a decent time of it. She right on the cusp of getting her strength back, eating solids again, and not getting exhausted every time she moves. Almost the whole time was spent with Denise who monitored her progress and yelled at her about rest. She also got to meet Tara who hovered around Denise a lot. They spent most of their time blushing around each other. Evidently there was another Doctor, Pete, but Lupe never saw him once, at least not at the infirmary. A woman named Jesse helped her with some necessities inside a welcome basket she kept by her hospital bed. Carol and Olivia worked the storage house with the armory and inventory with a few other people. Alexandria buzzed like a hive. The hum of humans existing near each other is its constant soundtrack. Everyone is doing something, constantly busy. The life inside the walls is pretty idyllic, but it's a bit of a whirlwind and kind of overwhelming.  
  
The original Alexandrians survived behind gigantic walls, almost since day one of the outbreak. They didn’t like to be challenged in their little Stepford way of life. They could be really prissy about it, like it wasn’t a total freak accident any of them weren’t dead. Lupe is on a shit list because of the gossip mill. Word spread about her attacking people and insulting everything about their home. Only a handful of Alexandrians look at her like she’s a person and not a wild terror.  
  
The other group, Rick’s group, were all relatively reserved people. They were adaptable and discerning and most of them had a hardness about them. She understood their need for self-protection, especially if they really did survive out there without the sanity of safety. Despite the fact that she almost killed one of their most valued members twice, they’d been the more consistently welcoming of the two groups.  
  
Since her current still-alive status spoke for itself, she was asked to try out a run with the supply team. It consists of several different groups that rotate and do what they do best. Glenn is the established leader of the operation. Maggie was usually on his team, but had recently been staying back. She worked with Deanna, Michonne, and Rick to better the safe zone. Aaron and Daryl are in charge of hunting. Tara and Heath usually do the long distance hauls, but evidently those were getting rarer due to the push for self sufficiency. Eugene, Annie, Scott, Rosita, Abraham, and Sasha all consistently volunteer.   
  
Rick even takes along Carl, Ron, Enid, and Will to start them in tactics and training. Carl was more like an TA on any given day, having helped his group for years. Enid was good outside the walls, but needed to practice teamwork. Will and Ron hadn’t been outside the walls at all. Lupe had a hard time looking at any of the growing teens surviving in this world. She wished more than anything Alma could have been here. It wouldn’t have been like at the Sanctuary at all. That was just the basest survival. In Alexandria, they could have lived.  
  
Lupe’s first run consists of Glenn, Aaron, Daryl, Sasha, and Enid. Lupe rides with Sasha, Glen with Aaron, and Daryl on his bike with Enid on the back. They take Branton Road out west to a suburban spot and find a gated community teeming with the undead. The area looks relatively untouched aside from all the walking corpses. They park their trucks outside of the neighborhood, hidden in plain sight with all the other random vehicles on the road. The main gates have a large map of the entire community on a metal plaque. Glen gets out his dry erase markers and starts notating it.  
  
“Let’s do a perimeter check,” Glenn says while still looking at the map. “Aaron, Lupe, and Enid, and Daryl and Sasha, go ahead and do a walk around. Everyone got their weapons and radios?” Everyone does a quick pat down and nods. “Okay, let’s start with radio silence. We don’t want to run into anyone out here either.”  
  
Lupe stiffens and gently squeezes the handle of gun strapped to her thigh. No one else seemed to catch it and it might have been a totally unconscious movement. But Daryl did. He’s not sure he’s seen her hand off the gun, but it’s the first time she’s squeezed it. His eyes narrow, but his brow bends with something he can’t quite name. It’s not a stranger to him, but concern is hard to admit in this new world. He decides he’d tell Enid to keep an eye on her.   
  
He’d been out there and seen the worst side of humanity. Hell, he was related to some of it. He knows what could happen to women and children out there — what does happen to them. He wasn’t about to stick himself where he didn’t belong, but he didn’t want Lupe to feel singled out. There was a reason Rick and Glenn agreed on who was joining the run. It was predominantly his people, with a smattering of trusted Alexandrians. Rick wanted their opinions on her. Being that Daryl understood what it was like to feel like an entire group didn’t trust him, he had a bit of compassion for her situation.   
  
The group starts to disperse and Daryl lays a hand on Enid’s shoulder. She turns around, frowning slightly. “Look out fer her, alright? Yer her superior.”  
  
Enid’s frown melts directly into a sharp half smile and an eye roll. “Aye-Aye Captain.”  
  
“Smart ass…” Daryl grumbles as Enid walks away and sidles up right next to Lupe.  
  
“Hey,” Enid says abruptly.  
  
Lupe jumps a mile, consumed in her thoughts as she followed Aaron. “Hey, shit, you scared me. You walk like a mouse.”  
  
“I guess I’ll take it as a compliment,” Enid snorts.  
  
Lupe grins. “Kept you alive so far, right?”  
  
“Yeah, in this shit-hole I guess.” Enid looks at Lupe and notices her pained smile. “Sorry we haven’t really met yet. Things have been hectic with trying to prepare for winter. I’m Enid.”  
  
“Pleasure, Enid. I’m Lupe,” Lupe says with that same sad grin. “So what made you want to join the run group?”  
  
Enid shrugs. “I hated being stuck behind the walls so much. It’s boring in there,” she says with a pretty classic teenage huff. Her smile comes back as her eyes flit around. “I kind of like the emptiness out here. Plus nature is fucking cool.”  
  
Lupe grins wide. “Nature is fucking cool.”  
  
“How about you?” Enid leans forward as they trail Aaron. She watches Lupe, who’s vigilant even though the teen is intentionally trying to distract her. Rick hadn’t said how Enid was supposed to form an opinion of Lupe. So she decided she’d try a few things out.  
  
Lupe glances at her shortly, but then looks away again. Her jaw moves in a small circle before she speaks, “I guess I was assigned, but I probably would have requested it for the same reason. I don’t like being cooped up.”  
  
Enid hears the hardness in her tone and remembers that Maggie said her and her little sister were kidnapped. Her sister was killed. Enid knew how that felt. Her sister died trying to save her parents. None of them made it. Enid survived on her own after that. Losing her parents was one thing, something everyone has to prepare for. But the loss of her sister Trisha was another. She seemed untouchable. Losing her was when reality truly broke for Enid.  
  
“So you survived out on the road too?” Enid asks, carefully avoiding specifics.  
  
Lupe chews on her lip for a moment before she nods. “Uh yeah. Since the beginning.”  
  
Enid’s eyes go wide. “Like the beginning-beginning? Never been behind walls?”  
  
Lupe’s breath whistles through her grit teeth. She shakes her head sharply. “Not really.”  
  
Enid catches her discomfort and passes over it. It doesn’t look like something she should push. That looks like pain. “That’s impressive.”  
  
Lupe scans the area and just sort of shrugs.  
  
“Denise told me you like Anime,” Enid mentions. Lupe drops her head, her shoulders bouncing with a dejected laughter. “I have some manga hidden away. The guys only talk about comics which is cool and all, but if you ever want some, you’re welcome to check my stash out. It’d be awesome to have someone to talk to about them again.”  
  
Lupe lifts her head, catching something in Enid’s tone she didn’t mean to put there. A wide and compassionate smile splits her face. It’s fond and friendly. She sighs and nods hard at Enid. “Yeah, that’d be cool. Thank you.”   
  
Enid notices the tears brimming, but Lupe’s smile is no less radiant. “You’ve got a very pretty smile,” Enid states. Lupe tilts her head in confusion for a second and then a small grin pops back up. Enid fought to restrain her own. “And the shaved head is super badass.”  
  
The smile splits across Lupe’s face again. “Thanks Enid.” They take a few more steps and Lupe fights the urge to say more. It’s hard seeing Enid where Alma should be. She doesn’t resent Enid at all. Lupe’s so goddamn glad this little girl survived whatever she did. She just can’t help but wish Alma was there too.  
  
“My sister loved Anime. Got me into it.” Lupe clears her throat, looking over at Enid’s long and free chestnut hair. “You know if you ever want help with a braid or a hairstyle to keep all that lush hair out of the way, I could help you out.”  
  
Enid chuckles, a pursed smile on her lips as she flips some of that luxuriousness out of her face. “That’d be nice. My sister used to always braid my hair. I never learned how.”  
  
“You never learned how?” Lupe gapes animatedly and Enid can’t help but giggle at her vehemence. “Shit chava, I’m gonna teach you then. You can’t have long hair and not know how to do a braid.”  
  
Enid leans in, eager. “Can you do one of those fishtail things?”  
  
Lupe snorts. “I can do pretty much anything.”  
  
Enid grins and nods. “Cool. Manga for hair lessons, I guess.”  
  
“Yeah, that sounds good.” It takes a beat, but Lupe smiles.  
  
They complete their first half of the perimeter check and meet Daryl and Sasha on the back half. Completing the circuit, they go back to Glenn to discuss. The map has several more notations on it. Glenn has a few pamphlets in his back pocket with a giant ring of keys and doodads hooked on his belt.  
  
“I raided the guard station and found some keys and maps. I’ve cordoned off sections for the groups. They’re all labeled so if you get into trouble, we can find each other for back up.” He starts handing out the maps and looks at the group. “How was the perimeter?”  
  
“Stable. Looks strong. Brick wall and Iron bars,” Daryl replies.  
  
“I think we can stick a good amount of them through the fence before going in,” Enid adds.  
  
“We should spread out along the perimeter, stretch them as thin as we can,” Sasha says.  
  
“Good ideas.” Glenn nods and goes back to the giant map. He writes everyone’s name down on different spots. “Let’s do this quiet, no guns. We don’t want to draw more walkers or people.” They walk off to their respective spots on the perimeter. They stick the dead they can draw out through the rod iron fences. It is a simple, boring process that barely occupies the mind. Once completed, they head back to the front and regroup.  
  
Daryl checks his map and notices Glenn teamed him up with Lupe on the inside. He looks over at Enid who’s investigating her map. She walks over towards Sasha, who she’s teamed up with, and eyes Daryl as she passes. She beams a quick smile and a nod. He nods back, trying not to grin. Seems like an honest signal from Enid that Lupe seemed alright.  
  
He goes over to Lupe who’s staring at the map, both big and small, asking Glenn some last minute questions about his notations. He’s happy to explain them to her, eager almost. The little nerd.   
  
Daryl tucks his grin back and approaches the two. “Ya’ready?” He asks her, not trying to put much urgency in his voice. They have a long time to investigate this property, as they’d left pretty early in the day and had plenty of light. First runs can be nerve wracking, especially with a stranger. This was their chance to see how Lupe managed, on her own and as part of a team.  
  
A contemplative frown scrunches her face as she turns to Daryl. It forcibly fades and she tries not to show how tense she is. “Uhm, yeah.” She nods, quickly tucking the map into her pants.   
  
Daryl walks off and she falls into step behind him. It isn’t long before he keeps looking back at her, waiting for her to step up. He even tried slowing down his loping gait, but she stayed steadily two steps behind.   
  
Finally, he snaps, “You gonna attack me from the back or somethin’?”  
  
Her head pops up from looking at the map, blank. A slow frown forms on her face, like she’s taking the time to process his question. She looks around nervously. Confusion stretches through the word creaking past her lips, “No?”  
  
“Walk next to me then, damn. Feel like I have a shadow,” he grumbles.  
  
Lupe eyes him carefully. She steps up next to him, but keeps too healthy of a distance.  
  
Daryl glares at her. “You get any farther away I’m gonna have to send up smoke signals girlie.”  
  
“Please don’t call me that…” Lupe demands in a warble. She doesn’t look like she’s gonna tear his throat out. She looks more distressed.  
  
“Girlie?” he asks. She nods. “Alright, I won’t, sorry. S’a habit. My brother Merle used to say it all the time. He was an asshole, though. I shoulda figured women wouldn’t like it,” he replies, sincere.  
  
Lupe looks at him. Her eyes rove him for a bit. He doesn’t bother looking at her. She sees it on him just like he sees it on her: grief. “I’m sorry about Merle,” she says.   
  
Daryl nods. His voice gruff, “Thanks. I’m sorry for yer sister too.”  
  
Lupe head quivers more than nods. “H-her name was Alma.”  
  
Daryl slows his step a little. He looks over at her, staring at the ground with her eyes forced wide to stop the tears. He hadn’t heard Lupe say her sister’s name yet. It had to be hard. He leans in closer. “I’m sorry about Alma.”  
  
She flinches away from him, but her tone tries to be gentle, “Thanks…”  
  
Daryl watches her for a while. They’re looking about the street checking out the houses and the set up, walking in the center with their weapons drawn, but relaxed. The tension in her body doesn’t peter out after discussing her sister or braining a few of the dead. She picks at her slingshot. Less crude now, made of sticks and medical tubing. She has that teeny gun with a silencer on the barrel. He noticed the carvings when he’d taken it from her.  
  
“Those carvings are well done. You do it?” he asks.  
  
Lupe glances down at the gun and smiles softly. “No, Alma. I don’t have an artistic bone in my body.” She gasps in excitement, “Oh except for make up! I was the shit at make up.” She rolls her head back and groans, “What I fuckin’ wouldn’t do to go dancing again. Get all fucking fancy and feel like I’m The Shit on the dance floor!” She laughs, peacefully and pleased. Then she stiffens. She looks over at Daryl with a sheepish fold of brows and lips. “Sorry…”  
  
“Nah, good to know you like something ‘cept beatin’ the hell out of me,” he scoffs.  
  
She cringes. “Jeez, I’m never gonna live that down will I?”  
  
Daryl snorts, “Nope.” Lupe nods her head with a rueful smile. Daryl’s lip quirks just a bit lookin’ at her. She’s still pretty far from him. He has a mind to think his proximity bothers her more than anything. “I smell or something? We’re supposed to be team and I’m pretty sure you keep gettin’ further away.”  
  
Lupe looks at him cautiously and realizes they do have quite a distance between them. It isn’t even casual. She shudders slightly, an uncontrollable thing. He’s wearing that leather vest and dressed to kill. Her vision keeps flashing, superimposing another figure on top of Daryl. “No — no, I’m sorry. It’s not that at all.”  
  
He huffs, but there’s nothing to it. Eying her again, something she said comes to mind. “I almost look like someone you used to know.” His voice isn’t accusatory. “That’s why, ain’t it?”  
  
She doesn’t look at him, but nods. “It’s not that you look like them, like your face or whatever, specifically. Just… sorta…”   
  
She waves her hand at his body.  
  
He follows the fluttering movement and looks down. He’s wearing his clothes. “I dress like’em?”  
  
“Yeah…” Her eyes close gently. “You dress just like them and their group.” She sighs out something terrible with the way she shakes. “A bunch of fucking sad sack fragile pieces of bravadoed shit wrapped in leather,” she bites through each word.  
  
“Damn,” Daryl replies with an impressed tone for her snarl. “And ouch,” he huffs petulantly, “you should know I was wearing this and riding bikes for years before shit went down.”  
  
She grimaces. “Sorry. I didn’t mean you are like them, but I understand I implied it. They just… threw it on, thinking it made them badass and macho. It was a status symbol for them.” Her voice goes shaky, “They just wanted to be able to kill people and wipe it off.”  
  
Daryl suddenly stops. Lupe takes a few stuttering steps without him before turning to look back. He starts to take off his vest.  
  
“What are you doing!?” Lupe scowls at him but her tone is all shock.  
  
He has one arm out when he looks up at her. “It scares ya,” he says it so simply. She looks away from him, her face pinching like she’s been struck.   
  
“Hey,” his voice is gruff, deeper and more grating than the one she remembered, “ain’t no shame in being scared. ‘Specially after you’ve been hurt. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.” His other arm comes out and he’s left in his flannel over shirt and a plain tee underneath. He starts folding the vest and goes to tuck it in his backpack.   
  
“The vest was a gift from my brother when I got my first bike, so it’s special to me, like that gun uh’yours.” He looks at her as he swings the bag over his shoulder. “But I ain’t ever needed leather to feel like a man.” He walks towards and she stares at him, gaping. His voice is kinda soft as he continues on by her, “And I don’t need you scared of me, a’right?”  
  
She watches him walk away and can’t believe what just happened. It takes him probably five steps to turn around and realize she didn’t join him.  
  
“You comin’?” he asks.  
  
She looks at him with a twitching frown and exhales shakily. “Yeah…”   
  
She jogs to catch up and gets herself as close to him as she’s comfortable with. She’s still unsure about being around men in general, but she really appreciated all that. She’s confounded by that tiny little sacrifice, like he’d just roped her the moon. It’s the most compassionate thing someone has done for her in a very long time.   
  
“Um, thanks,” she blurts. He looks down at her, impassive. “I, uh, that really, um, meant a lot to me. That’d you’d care about my comfort and, um, my safety. That was… very kind.” She flashes him the beginnings of a smile but can’t find the spine to finish it.  
  
Daryl huffs and it might have been a laugh. “Ain’t no skin off my ass. It’s just a vest.” A few more steps later, he looks down and notices they’re almost shoulder to shoulder. More head to shoulder, as she’s so much smaller than him. She still looks nervous as they approach the first house. “Just don’t tell me you’re also afraid of rednecks in flannel. I ain’t got no more shirts left.”   
  
Lupe lets out an airy laugh. ”Don’t worry. I’m a big fan of flannel. Lucky for you, I’d steal that shirt right off your back if it had arms.”  
  
They get to the door and step on opposite sides before knocking on the hard wood. While they wait he mutters, “Like I said, ain’t got not more shirts left, so this one’s stayin’.”  
  
A thump lands against the door and they hear some hissing behind it. Lupe’s glad she had been out in the woods a while after fleeing from the Sanctuary. Her first undead kill was really goddamn sloppy after being locked up for so long. Being nearly catatonic with grief probably didn’t help.   
  
“You wanna get the door or me?” Daryl asks.  
  
“You get the door. I’ll get whatever comes out, but if some come stumbling from afar, I could use not being overrun,” Lupe says simply.  
  
Daryl nods and they prep for the attack. Lupe reaches behind her back and pulls out two short black sticks. With a flick of her wrist the sticks extend into twenty six inch poles with a bulb at the end. He has to admit, it’s a pretty damn cool move.   
  
She backs up a few steps from the door, right in the center of the porch and readies to take the full brunt of the attack. Daryl’s a little hesitant because she’s just barely healed up, but the look on her face brokers no argument. She nods and he shoves the door open.  
  
Three walkers come shambling right at her, gasping maws, covered in gore, and their decaying arms reaching out. As the first one steps forward, Lupe whirls a series of swings and cracks their elbows straight through, joints folding on up from the underside. The next strike swings fast across and smacks it in the temple. The walker crumples and the others stumble right over it. With surprising precision, she reverses her grip with a twirl and jams both of her tactical batons directly through their skulls with barely even a grunt. He stands back with his crossbow ready, but no more come out.  
  
“Nice job,” he says as they step inside, his voice hushed as they peek around. “Those sticks are pretty handy.”  
  
“Batons,” she says with a nervous grin. “Found them on some shambling undead cops while I was running around out there by myself. I sharpened the ends on rocks to fashion a point, making it easier to skewer.” She spins them in her hands carefully. “Really light weight. I used to be like an actual baton twirler in high school, football games and all, but had to stop cause of joint injuries. These are actually really easy on my joints.”  
  
“What’s wrong with yer joints?” he asks.  
  
“I’m hyper mobile,” she replies.  
  
“What you mean, like, they move a lot?” Daryl pushes in the first door and they find an empty bedroom. “Don’t everybody’s?”  
  
“Yes, everybody’s joints move.” She rolls her eyes at him and he huffs. “Mine just move… more. The tissues that attach the bones and muscles can be too stretchy or weak, so I just have to be careful. Things displace, stuff can pop out or partially pop out, and I crackle a lot.”  
  
“Oh damn… It hurt ya?” he asks.  
  
“Sometimes,” Lupe says. There’s not really a better answer. Well, there is, but for ableist reasons, no one really likes to hear it. She tentatively glances at Daryl while he scans the room. He’s obviously working hard to prove that she doesn’t have to be afraid of him. She supposes that might incline her to be kind in return. Sometimes that meant being honest. She sighs. “Okay, yes, it hurts all the time. Nights and mornings suck especially.”  
  
Daryl snorts at her tone. “My mom had, uh,” he pronounces it so specifically with his deep southern drawl, “early onset arthritis. She hurt somethin’ awful most days.”  
  
Lupe cringes. “Oof, yeah, my abuelita had arthritis. It was terrible.”  
  
Daryl nods and they get ready to clear the last room. “Just let me know if you need a break or somethin’ alright? Don’t have to shoulder the world or nothin’. We take care of our own.”   
  
Her cheeks heat up and feel like they’re blinking. She hopes he doesn’t notice her tension. She hasn’t been around decent people in so long, the most basic human kindness makes her want to burst into flames. “Thanks Daryl,” she mutters.   
  
He chuckles.  
  
She frowns slightly. “What?”  
  
“Ya got an accent, almost roll the r on my name.” He grins, amused.  
  
“You’re going to stand there — you — and give me shit about my accent?” she replies with a smile that barely holds back a laugh.  
  
He squints at her. “My accent’s just fine. So is yers. I didn’t mean nothin by it, it’s just cute is all.”  
  
They both freeze on the spot. Daryl looks at Lupe. Lupe looks at Daryl. Neither of them really know what to do at that point.   
  
Lupe sputters out some laughter. She puts up a hand at Daryl’s taken back reaction. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this people thing anymore. No one has been decent to me in months.” She wheezes and tries to button up her ridiculous reaction. “I uh, think your accent is cute too,” she teases.  
  
Daryl shuffles a bit and she sees a big pink stripe burn across his cheeks. He gives her a playful scowl. “Shut up.” He immediately stalks out of the house and Lupe follows after him, giggling into her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you guys like notifications... 
> 
> I'm editing this myself and I am a tired mush of dried up neurotransmitters, so if I miss something and you'd like to mention it, I would appreciate that. I sure as heck don't catch everything.
> 
> Also there's certain lingering 'him/he'-s in there that are poignant and deliberate. I'm trying to mark them as italicized. some of them get missed. If you can't figure out who that specific he/him pronoun belongs to in that sentence, please look up "massive piece of shit" in the dictionary and his picture should be there.


	18. Chapter 18

Lupe cleared two more houses with Daryl before he deemed her sufficient enough to go off on her own. She’d been through almost all the buildings on her side of the street. Setting aside any good stuff to take back in the giant storage boxes and provided tote bags. Those would go right out on the sidewalk and later they’d zoom by with cars and stack them all up. She had to admit it was a really snappy system.  
  
She walks into the garage of the last house and starts peeking around. Most garages are either a treasure trove or an unnatural disaster. A nice little gravitational hub for nonsense, but not always full of what’s practically useful. This garage probably couldn’t beat what she found outside of it. Lupe found the best house. The memorabilia indicated a queer couple, a non-binary person and their butch girlfriend. Both were almost exactly her size and had a gobsmacking amount of clothes. She was ready to pack the whole place up and put it in her pocket. They had the best damn taste she’d seen the whole apocalypse.  
  
Lupe chuckles to herself, thinking about telling the Alexandrains that she wasn’t even gonna go back. She’d just stay in this big queer house and love the hell out of it for the siblings she lost. She sighs, trying to fight off the nagging feeling in her gut that tells her it’s the wrong move. It rattles her a little bit. Anxiety wants to take root. She doesn’t want to stay and like people and form more bonds that will just be shattered. She shakes her head and inhales, catching the scent of cinnamon and vanilla.  
  
Her eyes shoot open, suspicious. She sniffs again but the smell is gone. Replaced with something mundane and musty, much more fitting for a garage. She looks around carefully, trying to spot the source. She’s also being responsible and packing useful things into her bag. Nothing she notices could have given her that jolt of home.  
  
Lupe huffs out a breath and finally just growls, “Alma! Quit being a shit. I don’t like ghost stuff.” Then her lower lip trembles after she really thinks about it. “But I don’t exactly want you to stop either…”  
  
She closes her eyes and tries to stem the tears. A big sob attempts to escape, but she manages to swallow it back, to tamp it down, and keep it controlled. Unfortunately, that takes a lot of strength out of her. She leans back a little too hard on the shelf behind her and something falls and clatters.  
  
“¡Carajo!” she snaps. She goes to kick the thing that fell, but stops. It’s a canned food item. She excitedly kneels down to pick it up, a huge grin on her lips. Then she turns it over and sees it’s dog food. “Gah! ¡Putero de mierda!”  
  
She holds the thing in her hand and looks up to above to see several shelves packed with cans of the wet dog food. Maybe humans and dogs didn’t exactly have similar nutritional needs, but it wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing to have if life got desperate. She looks back down at the can in her hand and near the top of it is a giant dog’s head. A live one. Just right there, with golden eyes glowing as it leans in to sniff the snap open top.  
  
“WAAIHIHAA!” Lupe screams and flings the can up into the air as she falters backwards onto her ass. The dog also lets out a screeching yelp, trying to get away from her on the slippery, dust covered tile. All four legs go akimbo, skittering all over as it flees.  
  
“Shit!” Lupe has a hand over her heart. “Fuck!” She looks around and the dog is gone. “Shit-fuck!” she hisses at herself. She crawls around on her hands and knees, but can’t see the animal anywhere. She didn’t catch a perfect look at it. She could basically only see its eyes. She challenged anyone not to react like she did, seeing golden orbs floating in the dark by their hand.  
  
She huffs and sits back. The can sits in the middle of the little walkway between shelves. She crawls over to it and picks it up. Staring at it she realizes it’s for a puppy. Glaring at the can first, she then looks back up at the several shelves lined with the same exact product. If the couple were excited enough for the dog to stock up and so much went unused, the outbreak might have happened right around the same time they got the animal. She didn’t remember seeing any photos of a puppy or a grown dog. She didn’t see the couple’s bodies in the house and it didn’t look frantically packed up or abandoned. She wonders if the couple passed pretty early on. Her heart breaks thinking about the puppy they couldn’t save either.  
  
Lupe stands up and looks around again, finding a frisbee just a few shelves down. She grabs the can to check some expiry dates and serving sizes. She’s pretty sure she’s in luck with the year. Using the head size as an indication of the rest of a dog, she grabs another can and hopes for the best. After stabbing the cans to death and dumping the food out onto the frisbee, she starts carefully going through the garage again. She needs to find the damn dog. After scouring the entire place she finally notices the doggy door installed on a side exit. “Aw fuck,” she spits and takes a few steps forward to glare at the clear plastic flap. “Man, fuck you flap.”  
  
Lupe gets surprised when something comes shooting through the little door. So surprised, that when it scrambles between her legs, she isn’t ready to steady herself. Its body knocks into her knee, and with the wet food in hand, she tumbles right onto her ass and gets a boob full of dog food. Hissing and cussing, riled up as all hell, she suddenly hears and deep and vicious growl.  
  
Looking up, Lupe meets those gold eyes again. Only now she sees what they’re attached to and feels genuine fear. She loved animals growing up. Always wanted pets. But her parents were severely allergic. She could sit near a cat and two days later her mom would still be sneezing. She’d pet a dog and then hug her dad and he’d break out in hives. So she never had pets growing up and did not know very much about them in practical terms. However, she’s mightily sure this dog is pissed.  
  
“Hey puppy…” Lupe tries to croon sweetly. She cringes at herself and the dog slowly creeps closer. Huge black paws make calculated steps and the golden eyes are focused. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” she murmurs to the dog. “I got some food,” she scoops some up in her fingers, as she’s already pretty intimate with it, and holds it out. “It’s alright. I can help.”  
  
The dog gets close enough Lupe can see its features. The broad head, smooth black coat, small floppy ears, and massive fucking mouth proves it is very much a pit bull. One of her favorite breeds for being so smart and loving. She knew this poor dog was probably put through hell.  
  
“Shit, I’m so sorry pup, I can’t let you kill me,” she whispers softly. “I’ll get you to your parents, okay?” her voice shakes. She slowly moves to grab her knife. The dog bolts like a shadow escaping the light, lunging forward with a peel of barks and growls.  
  
And goes right past her.  
  
She hears the boom of its paws hit the door and she scoots away. One of the undead is trying to crawl through the doggie door. It reaches right for where Lupe just sat, only inches away and still hisses after her, though she moved. The dog’s massive teeth clamp right on the neck of the undead creature, snarling and whipping its jaws back and forth. The head suddenly pops off in the dog’s mouth. The dog continues shaking the undead’s head as it hisses and snarls. In one powerful movement the dog whips up and lets go of the walker head. It shoots up towards the ceiling and hits one of the exposed beams hard, plopping right back onto the ground between them, silent.  
  
“What?” Lupe whispers in shock. The dog strolls right up to her. It sniffs her shirt covered in dog food and gently starts to lick. Lupe starts giggling, completely shot on endorphins and adrenaline. “What!?”  
  
The dog realizes she has a whole plate of food in her lap and migrates from her shirt. As it eats, Lupe slowly strokes its back, listening to its happy chomps and trying to get it to slow down. She inspects her body and Lupe’s heart shatters a little bit. The dog is covered in scars. Scratches and patches of hair missing, slices along her back, and a good chunk absent from one of her ears. Lupe leans carefully, making sure the dog won’t spook, and checks out her face. It’s covered in scars too.  
  
“Oh bebe, I’m so sorry,” she whispers, petting the dog as gently and lovingly as she can. While she’s eating, Lupe contemplates a few things. She looks down at the dog as she finishes her plate. The all black pit bull sits down right next to her hip and her tail starts thumping against Lupe’s knee like a switch. Her big broad face spreads in a wide grin and her tongue lolls to the side. Lupe gives her a big giant smile too, slowly reaching up her hand, and stroking the dogs face. The pup closes her eyes and leans into the touch, her tail thumping faster. Lupe chokes on a sudden ghastly emotion and scratches the dog more surely.  
  
The split groups start to load trucks up and prepare to go home. Rick had radioed a bit earlier and wanted them to cut back on a side road that lead to Alexandria. It wasn’t a path that was often used, since most reliable resources were due east. They wanted to vet it more seriously, think about possible uses, and make sure it wasn’t a weakness.  
  
Daryl took Sasha’s truck while she helped Enid with the solar grid parts they were getting for Eugene. He went through and loaded all the containers full of useful items he and Lupe had put out. He parks at the last house with tons of bags and boxes on the yard. He hops out and starts loading it all up into the back. Right around the time he's done, Lupe comes waddling out of the front door. The container in her hands looks way too heavy by how low it swings in her arms. He hops right out of the truck’s bed and jogs over to her. Her head pops up and she looks horrified when she sees him. He squints at her reaction.  
  
“You wan’t help?” he asks as he approaches, but she isn’t slowing down.  
  
“Nope!” she grunts, obviously struggling.  
  
He steps after her unsurely. “Ya alright?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m great,” she huffs. She forces ambivalence to her tone, “Why?”  
  
“It looks heavy.” He nods to the box. “What you got there? Gold bars?”  
  
She trills a nervous laughter. So the exact opposite of her natural lower speaking voice. “Just clothes! Lots of jeans!” she says with a strained sweetness. She swivels away from him. “You know what you can do for me? Open the backdoor of the truck.”  
  
“Let’s just put it in the bed —,”  
  
“Open the door!” she growls as she continues waddling full speed with him at her side.  
  
“Alright, shit, calm down,” Daryl mutters and does as he’s told.  
  
She carefully hefts the container into the back seat of the cab. She moves her passenger chair all the way back, to make sure it’s squeezed in secure. Daryl’s trying to peak into the box without using his hands. He’s afraid she’ll take them off.  
  
“What happened to the container?”  
  
Lupe’s already slamming the doors in his face. She leans back against the truck and crosses her arms. “Nothing? It’s fine.”  
  
“It had holes in the top,” Daryl snaps.  
  
“Clothes need to air out Daryl! They’ve been stuck in a closet for ages!” she nearly shouts, her tone insistent yet implying it was obvious. “Men!” she huffs, throwing her hands up into the air.  
  
“What?” Daryl stares at her confused. He has to do a double take, realizing her outfit is different. “Did you change your clothes too?”  
  
Lupe looks down and gives a real nervous laugh. “Yeah!” she clears her throat and settles a little. “Someone had clothes to fit me. Lots of them too. It’s why I’m keeping the box in the back. I don’t want anyone to take certain stuff, okay?” Her face becomes shadowed and she looks away from him petulantly. “It’s not that easy to find clothes my size, alright? I’m kinda paranoid about it.”  
  
Daryl looks bashful. His eyes dart to the ground. “M’sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. My Ma was a big woman and she talked about the same problem,” he mutters and looks at Lupe fleetingly. “I get what you mean with finding the clothes, but you don’t gotta hide it or nothing. We’ll help you get what you need.”  
  
It’s Lupe’s turn to look bashful. Her whole face burns. She smiles at him, a tense but genuine thing. “Thanks Daryl.”  
  
“And, uh,” Daryl clears his throat, overcome with some urge to keep that sadness off her face, “it’s a nice shirt yer wearin’. Color’s real pretty.”  
  
Lupe looks down at it, a gorgeous cornflower yellow, long and flowy. She huffs through a smile, “Thanks Daryl. I think you pull of the redneck lumberjack look pretty good too.”  
  
He grumbles and Lupe thought it might have been a laugh. He chews on his nail a bit and then mutters, “Gotta get my bike.” And he was gone.  
  
Lupe exhales heavily. She walks to the other side of the car and climbs in. With the keys already in the ignition, she starts it up to get ready to go. She closes her eyes and mutters, mostly to herself, “I can do this.”


	19. Chapter 19

Lupe picked up Sasha and they switched spots, with Lupe becoming the passenger. The troupe moved out not long after and headed towards where Rick wanted to rendezvous. They passed a tractor supply store and not a whole lot else. It was understandable why Alexandria as a whole didn’t head out in that direction, but it was still unwise to leave it completely unexplored.  
  
It isn’t long before they roll to a stop and Lupe jumps herself awake when the car clunks into park. She’s curled up in the passenger seat. Her arm reaches up over the back of her chair and grasps the container for dear life. Flashes of her dream repeat as she slowly gains the ability to think. Barbed wire and blood. That’s all it was. She lets out a shuddering breath and watches Sasha as she glances out the window and looks around.  
  
Sasha turns back and sees Lupe’s eyes slowly blinking. “Hey, good, you’re awake. We just reached Rick, Morgan, Carl, and Michonne. Want to step out and stretch your legs?”  
  
Lupe nods and slowly unfurls herself, her body aching its way back into place. She lumbers out of the car and stretches her arms up, squealing lightly as her shoulders pop. “We gonna be here long?” she asks Sasha who’s on the other side of the truck’s hood.  
  
Sasha shrugs. “I don’t think so. I’m guessing it's just a check in with what we found out there.”  
  
Lupe nods. “Alright, cool. I’ll join you guys in a sec. Napping sucks for me.” She groans and Sasha gives her an easy smile before walking away. Lupe leans against the car and sighs. “Hijo de mierda…”  
  
“I was talking to Carter about getting more maps from the area.” Rick’s hearty voice carries over the air easily. “There’s lots of woods around us, which can be good. But we probably should familiarize ourselves with the landmarks and such as well.”  
  
“There might be a ranger station or a hunting lodge nearby where we can get that information,” Aaron mentions.  
  
Enid pipes in, “I can check the phonebook we found in one of the houses.”  
  
Carl shoots her half a grin. “Smart.” Enid smiles back at him.  
  
Lupe decides to stroll over after having a very short conversation with her new clothes. She stands between Enid and Sasha. Daryl, Glen, and Aaron are on the other side of Sasha. The other group lines up opposite to them, and they all form a shoddy circle.  
  
“I think I like the idea of patrols that Lupe mentioned before. I think it might fit in well along with the scouting Daryl,” Rick says. “We definitely should know our surroundings. It could come in handy if we ever have to plan an escape.”  
  
Daryl nods. “We should know the area better than we know ourselves.”  
  
Rick almost can’t look at Daryl for this next part. He’s sure it might end up being a fight. “I think I might try teaming you up with Lupe for a bit. Both of you know what to look for and avoid while going through the woods. We gotta find paths and water sources. We should make sure if we find people, we can be absolutely sure they can live along side us.”  
  
Daryl chews on his lip. “A’right.”  
  
Rick tries not to show his surprise at Daryl’s nonchalance. He’d been testy about Lupe, who kicked his ass twice. Beggars can’t be choosers in his situation so he lets it go. Rick looks over at Lupe. “You can let me know if this is too much on your plate too soon, but we do need everyone we can get right now.”  
  
Lupe flutters a straight fingered hand against her thigh. “Yeah, I think I can do that.”  
  
“That’s great,” Rick replies, relieved. “It’ll be important in the long run. We appreciate it.” He gives her a genuine smile and she likes how warm it makes his face. The dude could emote, that’s for sure.  
  
Then, Lupe hears the barking.  
  
“Carajo…” she whispers.  
  
Everyone looks around, trying to find the source of the muffled sound.  
  
Sasha is the winner.  
  
“How the fuck did that dog get in my truck!?” she screams.  
  
Lupe just stands there, her face pinched so tight she’s hoping to spontaneously implode.  
  
Daryl suddenly turns on her. “It weren’t no goddamn clothes!” he snarls. “You were smuggling a fuckin’ dog!”  
  
“Pinche mierda…” Lupe spits, turning back to see the dog going wild in the front seat. She looks back to Daryl. She decides to blatantly disregard everything and chose to be incensed. Her face twists with her causticly sarcastic lilt, “Yeah!? Maybe I found a dog in someone’s garage! Maybe I adopted it! Maybe I was trying to smuggle it in! So what!?”  
  
“Is that why you kept sticking your hand back there?” Sasha’s voice is sharp and annoyed.  
  
Lupe’s face bends painfully towards guilt and her tone instantly softens, “She was licking my fingers to reassure herself. I just didn’t want her to get nervous!”  
  
“You told me the clothes were soft!” Sasha spits incredulously. “And that I couldn’t touch them while I was driving!”  
  
Lupe grimaces apologetically. “If I can be honest here, that was more of a safety thing and this is not how I expected it to all go down.”  
  
“Dude, dad, can we find a dog!?” Carl pleads.  
  
“Son, no,” Rick spits out with a clenched jaw. He turns back, words ready on his tongue to admonish Lupe and reject her new pet. Lupe is gone from her spot, walking slowly towards the truck.  
  
Daryl reaches out to pull her back. “Hey, it’s not safe.”  
  
Lupe looks back at him, her frown deeply concerned. “Can you trust me on this?”  
  
Daryl stares at her hard. “Yer already lyin’ to us.”  
  
She steps closer to him, her tone very soft and very specific, “The people I was once with would have shot that dog in the head the moment I found it, and eaten it. I like you all and think you’re better than that, but I don’t know it yet, okay? I’m trying here. I know this is ridiculous but I just…” she exhales shakily, “…just… trust me?”  
  
Daryl squints at her and shakes his head. “Good luck with the rabies,” he bites out.  
  
“Har har asshole,” she mutters. Arriving at the truck, the dog is still going wild in the cab. She puts her hand on the window gently and the dog carefully stills, whining and growling with curling lips, writhing in the seat. It doesn’t look like a potty dance so Lupe turns around and sees the group, lined up in front of the edge of the forest, staring at her, waiting.  
  
Her voice is abrupt, “Move.”  
  
Rick scoffs, everyone looks over at him as he’s about to speak.  
  
“MOVE!” Lupe shouts and rips open the door.  
  
Everyone leaps out of the way as the dog shoots from the cab like a bolt. It passes by all the humans, going straight for the trees. Lupe goes to run after her, but Daryl grabs her arm this time and doesn’t let go.  
  
“Let me go help her!” Lupe snarls.  
  
“Wait…” he replies with a low and patient growl. He nods his head towards the tree line. “Yer mutt is givin’ everyone a show.”  
  
Lupe looks back at the forest and the dog’s dragging a thrashing walker out into the open by its leg. Michonne has her sword out in a flash and takes a menacing step forward. Subconsciously, Lupe grabs one of her batons and extends it with a flick. She believes Michonne is going for the walker, but she can’t let that dog get hurt.  
  
The dog snarls viciously as she jumps, flattening the undead on the ground before clamping down on its neck and tearing off the head. The dog shakes it around for a second or two and then dizzily trots over to Lupe as everyone grips their weapons and takes several steps back. She drops the decapitated walker’s head at Lupe’s feet, sits down, and looks up at her with her giant pit bull smile and wags her tail.  
  
“Good girl.” Lupe smiles and then jabs her baton into the rocking and snarling walker’s skull.  
  
“Holy shit!” Carl spits out. He turns to his dad wide eyed. “Dad, we have to get a dog! Did you see that?!”  
  
“That was amazing!” Enid mutters with childlike glee. “How did you get her to do that!?”  
  
Lupe shakes her head. “She does it all on her own.” She kneels down, with Daryl still standing next to her, tense. “She’s a very good girl. The best girl. She already saved my life once.”  
  
Rick walks closer, his eyes on the dog, wide and not exactly suspicious anymore, but certainly fascinated and shocked. “Saved your life? How?” he sputters, incredulous.  
  
“Much like she just did for you right now. She surprised me in the garage and I fell. Behind me, a walker was trying to get through the doggie door, to get me. She turned around, came back. I thought it was me she wanted, but she passed me right by and tore it apart. Ate food right off my lap after like we were best friends.” Lupe smiles and pets the dog. The big bully breed leans into her heartily, tail thwumping happily, tongue lolling out.  
  
“Lupe…” Rick starts. His tone already sounds despondent.  
  
“I don’t have to stay with you,” she fires back sharply. “We don’t.”  
  
He sighs heavily, his lips pursing up. He shakes his head and opens his mouth to talk.  
  
The dog pulls away from Lupe and trots over to the edge of the forest. There’s a low growl that comes from her throat and then she starts to pace. She follows along the forest’s edge, from where Aaron stands all the way through to Morgan. She paces back and forth, growling low.  
  
She suddenly turns and runs back over to Lupe, whining. Lupe frowns and then the dog trots back over to the edge of the forest. She looks back over to Lupe and barks once, her tail now wagging. Lupe takes a step forward to follow.  
  
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Rick reaches to stop her. Lupe gives him one seriously dirty look and stalks away from him.  
  
“Daryl…” Rick mutters helplessly.  
  
He shrugs in response. “That dog is a better walker killer than half the people in Alexandria.” Daryl steps around a sighing Rick and follows Lupe into the woods.  
  
“Sorry dad,” Carl says and then jogs off before Rick can stop him. Sasha doesn’t even say anything, she goes right with him.  
  
Rick rubs his head, looks skyward as if that’s gonna give him some answers. “Glenn, Enid, Aaron, please watch the vehicles.” He turns and his voice is hard, “Michonne, Morgan, with me please.”  
  
They stalk after the group with the dog, heading through lush forest and seeing no walkers in sight. It would be a relief, but every time they thought they had a boon, there was a cost. Usually too deep for any of them to want to pay. They usually had to anyway.  
  
When Rick approaches the group, they’re in a near perfect line at a rocky ledge. The dog sits next to Lupe, leaning into her legs, with her tail wagging. Lupe absentmindedly strokes the top of her head. Daryl is next to her and his arms hang limp at his sides. Even Sasha and Carl are just standing there. Staring.  
  
Rick’s about to call for them when he gets close enough and feels all of the energy leave his body.  
  
“This is why…” Carl starts. He turns to his dad. “This is why they thought they were safe.”  
  
Down over the rocky edge is a deep and wide quarry. The top path is blocked off by a few unlevel semis, the bottom path is blocked in a similar way. Between those two trucks was about quarter mile of pure shambling undead. The pit had them completely pinned in, though some were slipping between the trucks, ripping themselves to shreds to slide through a thin gap. More tumble in on the other side, drawn by the sound of the others. The group has the high ground and are currently safe, but that could change at any minute.  
  
“Shit…” Rick hisses. He paces for a bit, glaring at the set up. “We have to get those maps and figure out a way to handle this herd,” his voice slices through the air as he walks and his cowboy boots thump in the dirt. “Before it gets to us.”  
  
Everyone nods nervously, staring uneasily at their newest roadblock to peace. Rick huffs and starts to walk away, when he suddenly hears growling. He turns to glance at the dog, which is watching him intently, it’s snarling lips curling over its long fangs. He slowly reaches for his gun.  
  
“Don’t!” Lupe hisses.  
  
The dog is off and jumps straight past Rick, getting a walker that was sneaking up silently behind him in the shadows of the trees. Most of its face is ripped off, so it didn’t make a sound. The dog lands a bite on the walker’s shoulder, dragging it down into the uneven ground where it thumps its head against rocks and roots, crackling out a starburst of blood. The corpse goes still and the dog turns back to the trees and starts pacing and whining.  
  
Lupe rushes over. The dog is covered in gore and looking like a hell hound. Daryl grabs Lupe’s shoulder to stop her, but she smacks him in the elbow. She hits a perfect point where it hurts like hell, but won't injure, and he lets her go. She hears him prep his bow as she pushes past Rick and everybody else.  
  
Daryl’s bow is trained on the dog. Lupe may think this thing is some sort of angel, but he doesn’t want to risk it. The animal paces spectacularly, like jaguar in the trees. She is fierce, he is sure of it. He’s seen it a few times already. He still doesn’t know what to do. As Lupe approaches the dog, he’s confident he’d rather shoot it than see her harmed. He knows she’d hate him for it, but he’s almost to the point where he can admit he wants her safe.  
  
The dog snarls and paces at the edge of the trees and Lupe stumbles right up. She turns and growls for just a second, but her face instantly relaxes when she sees Lupe there. She trots right over and sits, waiting patiently for affection. Lupe kneels down and hugs the dog tight, not caring about the gore anymore. “You’re a very good girl.” She leans back and the dog is still panting and smiling. Lupe grabs her canteen and pours some out into her hand for the dog to lap up.  
  
Rick mutters, “Should be conserving the water —,”  
  
“It’s my fucking water, in my canteen. I’ll do whatever the hell I like with it,” she snaps back at him. The dog perks her head up but Lupe shushes her, trying to get her to drink more.  
  
“Kinda community water…” Daryl sets the bait.  
  
Lupe looks up at him with murderous indignancy in her gaze. “Well, am I part of the community or not!?” she spits. “Make up your minds about if you want to kill me or banish me or whatever. But fuck you, I’m helping my dog.” She wets her sleeve and starts cleaning the dogs jowls.  
  
“Lupe —,” Rick starts  
  
“Please…” Lupe interjects. Her body slumps. “Please let me keep her.” Lupe’s voice is fragile. She looks at Rick. “She needs someone…” Lupe’s on the verge of tears. “I need someone, okay?” Her voice cracks. “Just… let us help each other.”  
  
Rick stares at her. He can’t read her like others. Not exactly. She’s a bit terrifying with all the ways she’s tried to kill Daryl and the numbers she has to back it up. She’s raw in a way the world didn’t train him for. She has a genuine vulnerability that spooks him. He knows what happens to good people in this world. She’s survived something that Rick can’t imagine, and he’s lost so damn much in the worst of ways.  
  
“What if she’s sick?” he asks, honest and fair.  
  
“I can stay with her in the community we found. Give her a few days —,”  
  
“Yer not styain’ out here alone with that dog,” Daryl snaps.  
  
“If this dog dies I’m not letting her be alone or with some stranger. I’m gonna be there for her, and I don’t give a shit if you don’t like it. It’s my dog, it’s my decision,” Lupe shoots right back.  
  
“That thing might get you sick! Get us sick! We got a baby to worry about. We don’t have the luxury of pets anymore,” Daryl snaps. “We all know if that dog went wild and started drawing in walkers, we’d step on its neck and shoot it in the fuckin’ head!”  
  
The look on Lupe’s face is a shade away from a massacre. Rick puts up a hand at Daryl. He levels a glance at Lupe. “She’ll need a quarantine and you’ll need somewhere safe to keep her isolated.”  
  
“That community was gated, we’ll probably be fine.” Lupe shrugs halfway and petulant.  
  
“You’ll need space. A yard,” Rick looks around the forest poignantly and sighs. “A house.” He nods just slightly before turning and walking away.  
  
“Huh?” Lupe says, loud and confused.  
  
Rick speaks over his shoulder with that hard-ass tone, “You’re gonna need to come back to Alexandria and pick a house.” His eyes finally settle on her and there’s a playfulness in them she didn’t think existed. “You a part of this community or not?” His smile is sharp, but it disappears over his shoulder as he walks away.  
  
Lupe fights back a grin. She leans into the dog and it licks her buzzed head. Lupe looks up and gently ruffles the pup’s jowls. “A house?” she asks the pup in Scooby-Doo. She wags and wags her tail in response.  
  
Sasha walks by them and gives Lupe a disapproving look. “Next time just tell me.” She looks at the dog and her face does this soft crumple with hidden emotions breaking through. “I woulda helped you, damn!” She kneels down to be introduced to the dog and pets her, elated.  
  
Daryl walks by Lupe in a huff. She bristles at the tense anger radiating off him. She looks up, and her tone is sharp but neutral to get his attention. “Daryl…”  
  
He barely turns to look at her through his bangs, but she can see he’s mad. The kind of mad that grows to be silly and redundant. Unhelpful. Lupe looks at him so hatefully, his heart skips a beat.  
  
“If you even look at my dog wrong, I will rip out your own skull and beat you with it,” she snarls.  
  
She sees the fear rush through Daryl. That ‘what-if’ warning that most men brush off and usually regret. The storm in him settles slightly as he gazes at her. She sees some sort of recognition go through him. Person to person, burdened by something inside that’s like a reflection. It sends a chill through her, and both her and the dog shudder. She gets a cheek twitch out of him.  
  
“Alright...” Daryl drawls out, long and deep. She thinks, as he turns, maybe, she sees a bit of a grin.


	20. Chapter 20

Almost the entirety of Alexandria huddled up inside Deanna’s house. Everyone looked pretty grim, considering the giant horde that could destroy everything at any minute. Rick stood facing the group. Deanna faced the window with Reg by her side, gently grasping her shoulder. Her son Spencer, looking like a department store model who hit hard times, slumped in a chair nearby.  
  
“I know all of this is distressing. We’re in a bad situation, but I think we have a chance,” Rick says, his tone hard and serious. “I need to know more about this quarry though. Has anyone ever been out in the area before?”  
  
Heath raises a hand. “Yeah, in the beginning, we were out scouting trying to find out what was around here. We spotted the camp, maybe about a dozen people trying to get themselves set up. They blocked everything off with those trucks. It was so close to the beginning, we all didn’t really know what to do or what was coming, so we left them to themselves.”  
  
“No one’s been back since?” Maggie, seated next to Glenn on a pristine couch, asks, looking up at him with tired eyes.  
  
Heath looks down at her, his head shaking softly. “Everything worth scavenging is in the other direction towards DC.”  
  
Lupe leans near one of many window with a deep sill. She’s quiet and keeping to herself, but her eyes glaze over with Health’s statement. Her face goes ashen and slack. She sits down slowly on the ledge near her, one hand wrapped around her stomach.   
  
Daryl sits at another windowsill. Just a little bit away from where Lupe leans. He’s been periodically glancing at her. He can’t exactly stop himself, because he has some thoughts. He doesn’t want her to go or anything, but this whole dog mess has got him riled. He frowns at her reaction. Irritation turned to vapor. With the empty look in her eye, he almost gets up to go check on her, but Michonne starts talking. Every time Michonne spoke, it was wise to listen.  
  
“Something bad must have happened.” Michonne shakes her head and her long locs sway with her movement. “They can’t be contained forever. All the noise they’re making now is just drawing in more walkers.”  
  
“Shit, and then some,” Abraham, a giant ginger wall of muscle grumbles from his spot in a beautiful pink chair. His fittingly giant mustache ruffles in irritation.  
  
“Michonne’s right,” Rick nods. “What I plan to propose will be risky, but walkers are already slipping through. The barriers are failing, from wear, tear, and weather. One of the semis up top is barely keeping up.”  
  
Daryl adds, “A bad rain or a humid day, and it’s going down.”  
  
Pointing at Daryl, Rick agrees, “Right. It could happen any time. Either of those barriers fall, the roads will funnel them right to our gates.” He sighs. “It’s not a matter of if, but when. It will happen and we need to do something before it does.”  
  
“Like what?” Carter pipes up, his face pinched in concern.  
  
Rick purses his lips for a moment. “I propose we release the walkers deliberately and use several methods to lead them away.” He looks around at the gobsmacked faces. Putting up a hand, he continues, “Now listen, we’ve done things like this before. Maybe not of this magnitude, but we have. We can use flares, make paths with vehicles on the road blocking them in, draw them out with the sounds of cars and Daryl’s motor cycle.”  
  
“I can go with him, trail him in a car,” Sasha interjects and Daryl glances at her. “That’s a very long way to white knuckle it.” Daryl’s lip quirks and so does Sasha’s, they nod at each other. They always make a good team.  
  
“I’ll ride along,” Abraham says to Sasha. “Everyone needs back up.” She gives him a lopsided smile and pops a sure nod.  
  
“Wait a minute! This is barely a plan!” Carter edges on a shout, his voice shaking from nerves. “Leading them away? Tha-that’s it? We can’t just control that many!”  
  
“I’ve said it before, walkers herd up. They’ll follow a path if something’s drawing them,” Rick mutters with utmost patience. “We can lead them away all at once.”  
  
Carter’s face folds in anger and what might be disgust. “So what? We’re just supposed to take your word for it? J-j-just supposed to trust you after —,”  
  
Rick’s face pinches into a glare directed at Carter. “After what?” his voice is deadly low.  
  
Carter’s voice is shaky, but his scowl is solid, “After you beat the shit out of our doctor in the street! After you waved around a gun in our faces! Lied to us —,”  
  
“Listen —,” Rick starts, his word is a crack through Carter’s shaking statement.  
  
“I agree!” Lupe announces and everyone turns sharply. She rarely talks, especially in groups. She’d also picked one of the farthest houses off the main track, away from most others, so she doesn’t socialize. She’d also been cooped up with her dog for a couple days.   
  
“What?” Rick asks, utterly confused and almost hurt.   
  
Lupe stands up slowly trying to hide her shaking knees. “I don’t know what he’s talking about with doctors or whatever, so I don’t agree with that. But that plan is too dangerous. Way too risky, Rick! You’re putting more than just the lives in Alexandria at risk. You’re also leading that herd off to possible unsuspecting innocent people.” Her breath shudders out. “Plus anything could throw them off following just a car and a motorcycle.” She scoffs, “I mean I have ADHD, I’m a professional at getting distracted, but those assholes walk off after anything. A loud bird could pull off a section of the herd and we’d all be completely fucked.”  
  
Everyone stares at her. She shuffles her feet in the silence.  
  
Rick watches her with hard eyes. He knew the plan was beyond risky, but they had to eliminate the threat. He knows she’s being forthright, and he appreciates honesty considering something of this magnitude. It also happens to take a lot of guts to stand up to his cranky ass. He nods once. “Alright, valid points, not just that I’m an asshole, which we all already well know.” The group chuckles the best they can in a situation so heavy. He looks at Lupe, and asks, “What would you propose?”  
  
Lupe shrugs, her head bows and she doesn’t want to look up at all the faces around her. She stands on trial and doesn’t want their judgement. Her legs shake, aching like she’s kneeling on cement and facing punishment. A distinct terror laces itself beneath her skin and she’s just about ready to jump out the window. She lets out a shaky breath and stares at Rick. “We should kill them. Every single one.”  
  
A shudder runs through the gathered group. Everyone looks at each other in confusion.  
  
Tobin speaks up, timidly, and not trying to be rude, “I’m not sure we have enough ammunition for that.”  
  
Lupe looks at him with a frown. “Then we don’t use guns.”  
  
“You want us to go in hand to hand?” Glenn blurts. “That’s suicide.”  
  
“No, no.” Lupe raises her hands, flicking her fingers and shaking her head. An attempt to dislodge the severe discomfort of sensory overload from so many people around her. Trying to inhale in the room is like breathing in syrup. “I, uh…” she shudders again and wraps her arms around herself.  
  
Rick interrupts up, his voice stern, but not yet accusing or condescending, “We can’t have them come to our walls. They will fall. We should lead them away, we don’t have the ability to take all of them out. There’s hundreds down there.”  
  
Lupe pinches the bridge of her nose and tries to breathe. She unfolds and looks up at Rick, clenching the shirt at her stomach. “Rick, right now, they’re a giant fucking bullseye.”  
  
Rick’s eyes widen and his face softens with the realization. “You think we could keep them pinned in and strike all at once?”  
  
Carter’s face also goes slack in thought. “We could try and strengthen the barriers. Reg and I could draw up plans like we did with the wall.”  
  
“What about the crumbling barrier? Ain’t no way to stop rain or the earth from shiftin’,” Daryl mutters.  
  
“We could block off the next available point. Or you know, everything is basically made of dirt. If we hit the right spot on that ramp up, we could make the whole thing degrade and the undead would fall,” Lupe says.  
  
“We don’t have explosives Lupe,” Rick mentions with a slight grimace. “The sound could draw more walkers even if we did.”  
  
Her head whips over to him and her face is unusually bright with a big’ol smile. “We can make some! And a lot of options could just be fire. Lots and lots of fire. The quarry is low enough to not draw in walkers with just fire.”  
  
“Make explosives?” Carol says in a shaky voice. Lupe immediately looks over at her. Even though Carol was significantly younger, Lupe can’t help but think of Marigold. Carol didn’t talk to Lupe much, but when Lupe looks into her eyes, she sees something kaleidoscopic. “Isn’t that dangerous?” her voice is timid, but behind the paisley print, pastels, wispy voice, and quivering lip, there is something calm. Lupe scoffs lightly and shakes her head. When she looks back up at Carol, her face is posed in that perfect meek housewife stare. Lupe nods at her appreciatively, but Carol doesn’t let the mask falter.  
  
“How can we manufacture explosives? We don’t have that kind of equipment,” Eugene adds, looking contemplative.  
  
Lupe nods. “A lot of generic stuff is highly dangerous. There’s bleach and toilet bowl cleaner and fertilizer. I bet nail polish remover wasn’t looted. There’s powdered coffee creamer somewhere.” Her eyes rove the room quickly, but she isn’t looking at the people, her thoughts are racing. “The tractor supply store has a bunch of equipment we could use. We could make catapults to launch rocks. We could use those forklifty-things to push over boulders or — or,” she smiles wide, “or there’s tires! Those things weigh between four to six hundred pounds!”  
  
Abraham sits forward with a glint in his eye. “We roll those over the edge and it’ll be like a half pipe of murder.”  
  
Lupe nods, a mischievous and eager smirk on her lips, which is a reflection of his. “If we really wanted to go Plus Ultra we could set those on fire too!” They both grin ear to ear.  
  
“Hold on now,” Rick’s trying not to laugh, “I don’t think this is a bad idea, but we gotta map it out and make it happen fast. I don’t know if we have time to gather all those supplies.”  
  
“But we have time to move cars and expertly form some massive puzzle of a twenty mile maze to guide them away from our walls?” Her incredulity is obvious. “Come on Rick, you have to admit, nailing them all in one single place while we still can is a tactical advantage you can’t pass up!” Lupe snaps.  
  
Deanna speaks through the lingering silence, “We should do what she says Rick. I don’t want to keep risking our people or others by keeping those things alive.”  
  
Rick sighs. “I know you’re not wrong. We just have to be meticulous about this.”  
  
“Perfect, I’m autistic too, and I love details.” Lupe claps her hands and looks around the room slowly. “Any one have experience with tractors?” A few people raise their hands and Lupe grins.  
  
“Alright, before we dig too deep theres a few other things.” Rick looks at Deanna who nods and then turns back to the window. “We’re going to build up watch towers along the wall. We’ve got to start getting more aggressive concerning the safety of the community.”  
  
“This is more long term, but we should reinforce the wall, use bricks or something for the towers. Maybe even line the outside with doubled up storage containers or something,” Lupe adds.  
  
“We got some of that at the construction site. I’m sure we could start getting creative.” Abraham says, looking at a thoughtful Carter and Reg before glancing at Rick.   
  
Rick nods. “We’ll also be adding guard rotations. Holly, Rosita, Spencer, and Nate. So they’ll be out of our plans for taking down the walker pit. The construction crew will start immediately after the put is cleared. We’re gonna need some of your help to reinforce the walls and moving equipment. Now I need volunteers.” He looks around the room and most of the faces turn down.  
  
Michonne and Glenn are automatic; Lupe, Daryl, and Sasha too.  
  
“I’d like to help.” A meek voice rings out, coming from a black man dressed like a priest.  
  
“No,” Rick growls decisively without even looking at him. “Who else?”   
  
Lupe puts her hand to her mouth to stop from laughing. She doesn’t know of the underlying factors for the animosity, but it’s still funny. She get’s herself under control, but only barely. Sara and Heath both volunteer and a stream of people slowly raise their hands.   
  
One man with curly hair and a bunch of bruises on his face steps up next. “I’ll go.” Glen shifts in his seat, his jaw clenching. The man keeps speaking, “I have to help.”  
  
Rick sighs and glances at Glenn who’s looking a bit murderous. Rick glares at the man. “You sure you can handle it Nicholas?”  
  
Nicholas shrugs beneath the threat in Rick’s eyes. “You need people. I can do it.”  
  
Rick glances at Glenn who now appears resigned. He sighs himself. “Alright. Thank you.” He looks around the room, the faces drawn in thought. He glances at Lupe, whose eyes are staring at the floor, tracking nothing back and forth, completely consumed. He looks back to the rest of the group. “I believe we can do this. We can eliminate this threat completely, wisely. We can make our home safe. We can protect our families. We will survive.”  
  
Heads nod around the room. Carter looks up. “Let’s get some maps of the quarry. We should work on reinforcing the barriers.”  
  
“I can take a team to check out the tractor supply store,” Glenn adds.  
  
Rick nods. “We need to gather trucks for supplies and start making a cache.” He looks over at Lupe who’s still consumed in her thoughts. “Lupe, we need a list of flammable or combustable things.”  
  
Her head shoots up. Not even paying attention to his question, she asks, “Is there a library around here? A public one?” Rick’s eyebrows fold and he looks around at the others.  
  
Tobin replies, “A couple miles south on Lemondale I think.”  
  
Lupe responds with an excited grin. She looks over at Rick. “Can someone take me?”   
  
“What do you need from a library?” he asks, face squinted in confusion.  
  
Lupe smiles an eerie smile. “Books are knowledge and knowledge is power, Rick.” He frowns and is about to reply, but she cuts in, “I can make it fast. I know exactly what I’m looking for.” Rick sighs at her intensity.  
  
“I’ll take her,” Daryl mutters. “We can get there fast on my bike.”  
  
“No bikes!” Lupe suddenly snaps out, her voice harsh. Everyone looks at her and she curls in on herself, gripping at the fabric at her stomach. “I, uh,” her eyes flit around to everyone, “got — in — an…. accident…” She looks around. “In high school. It was bad.” She stares at the floor.  
  
Rick looks to Daryl, who nods. “Alright. Let’s get started,” Rick says in his sure tone. The group suddenly morphs into action. The room sections off pretty quickly with people grouping up with their teams and making plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm burning through chapters, but I have the entire thing written and I've already done a lot of edits and refined it as much as I can do on my own.
> 
> So please dont let the speed make you think I'm not interested in your feelings. Please let me know what you think, if you'd like to share.
> 
> Enjoy!


	21. Chapter 21

Lupe remains at the window’s ledge and stares at the floor. She can’t believe her outburst about the bike. It was just a goddamn motorcycle. She wishes she was strong enough to pretend it didn’t matter. But it does. She hates the damn things.  
  
Big clunky boots settle into her vision. They are different boots. Well worn and matte from years of use and no one to shine them for him. She hesitates to let her eyes crawl up the rest of the body, but she does. Daryl stands there, looking down at her blankly.  
  
“I got a truck,” he offers. Daryl looks around at the groups, all talking intently. He stares down at her again. “Wanna get out of here?”  
  
She nods slowly and stands up, following Daryl aimlessly as he leaves Deanna’s house. They start walking off and Lupe pauses, glancing back at her house.  
  
“Can I bring Barbacoa?” She blurts.  
  
Daryl pauses. “Who?”  
  
“Barbacoa.” She points back at her house. “My dog?”  
  
Daryl scoffs. “Yeah, bring the damn dog.” Lupe makes a disgruntled face at him and then walks off.  
  
Not much later, he’s by his truck, leaning and sharpening his knife. She comes strolling down the street with the dog happily trotting at her side. Climbing rope is tied carefully around the dog’s chest and shoulders to make a harness. He huffs a small laugh and stands up. Lupe’s smiling so wide, almost as wide as her pet. She looks really happy with the mutt by her side and Daryl can’t really blame her. They made an adorable pair.  
  
“She can sit in the bed,” he grumbles on principle.  
  
Lupe laughs in his face. “You can sit in the bed for all I care. She’s going in the back seat.”  
  
Daryl scowls at Lupe half heartedly and she just smiles winningly in return. “You’re a pain in my ass.”  
  
Lupe continues smiling as her and the dog trot over to the other side of the car. “You’re not the first person to say that to me.” She opens the back door and lets Barbacoa jump up. “I count it as a badge of honor at this point.”  
  
Daryl huffs and climbs in the cab with her. The dog automatically scrambles up and over the middle compartment to try and get on Lupe’s lap. She pushes the dog back gently and gets her to sit, but Daryl has already been a casualty of her giant tongue. He wipes the dog slobber away and tries to keep the smile off his face. Lupe and the dog are really sweet together.  
  
Their journey to the library is rather quick. The drive is mostly silent except for when the dog would wine and a walker would come stumbling out of the woods. When they arrive, the area is pretty clear. The trees on the other side of the road look pretty thick, but they don’t think they’d disturb much over there. When they start getting out of the cab, the dog is basically hopping in the back.  
  
“Can I let her out to run around? She’ll kinda do a circuit and then come back eventually,” Lupe asks with a smile.  
  
Daryl’s face pinches in confusion. “How’d’ya know that?”  
  
Lupe stiffens. She looks over at Daryl and a slow, sweet smile spreads on her face. “We were practicing…”  
  
“Where? She was supposed to be in quarantine and you ain’t supposed to leave the gates without back up,” he growls.  
  
Her smile somehow got sweeter. “Well, it was… while everyone was asleep…” she looks at the dog with her face pressed up against the window, tongue licking the glass. “She’s very quiet, so I let her do circuits around Alexandria. I gave her treats when she got back to me and kind of fashioned the behavior into one I can request.”  
  
“She was supposed to be in quarantine.” Daryl scowls.  
  
Lupe’s cheek twitches as her jaw clenches. “Everyone was sleeping. It’s fine.”  
  
Daryl snarls, “It’s not fine. Don’t be keeping secrets from us. Don’t go lyin’ to us. Rick does what he does for a reason.”  
  
“A reason?” Lupe snaps back. “He was gonna lead out an undead herd of hundreds basically for the aesthetic. That plan would have gotten us killed.”  
  
Daryl takes a threatening step towards her. “Rick’s done nothing but keep us safe. He’s a good leader.”  
  
Lupe glares right back at him. “Rick is human and humans make mistakes. He was wrong. I’ve been wrong too. I’m not saying he’s a super villain who planned to kill us all. I’m just saying it was a bad plan that would have killed us all.”  
  
Daryl eyes her up and down, tucking back the huffing anger in his chest. Rick is his brother and he wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect. The man had done everything he could to keep their group safe. He has his problems, but everyone does. Rick's a good man. Daryl supposes she’s not quite privy to that yet, and she isn’t really contesting it. Daryl nods sharply at her assessment. Rick hadn’t had any better ideas. She did.  
  
Lupe opens the door for Barbacoa, putting up a hand to keep her from automatically jumping out. She gets the lead and helps the dog down. The dog’s whole body wiggles excitedly as she looks up at Lupe. Barbacoa eventually sits, though her tail wouldn’t stop wagging the entire time Lupe slipped of the faux harness.  
  
Lupe grins down at the dog. Folding her hand, showing four fingers squeezed together and her thumb on her palm, she makes a tight circle from her elbow and says, “Encuentras.” The dog shoots off.  
  
“What’s she gonna find?” Daryl asks, staring out into the empty area.  
  
Lupe raises a slow eyebrow at him. “You speak Spanish?”  
  
“Enough to survive a construction site so no one slapped me when I had a question,” Daryl mutters.  
  
Lupe grins. “Ya veremos, gringuito.”  
  
They wait for a bit and Daryl pulls out a cigarette. Lupe’s head whips to him, eyes predatory. He stares back at her nervously for a bit, but when he puts the cigarette to his mouth she looks away. He squints slightly. “¿Quieres uno?”  
  
Lupe snorts hard. “Now that’s a bad accent, but the effort is greatly appreciated. I miss speaking it.” She bites the smile away and looks at the outstretched arm with a cigarette at its furthest tip. “Haven’t had one in a while,” she says, arms wrapping around herself. “It was a destructive habit for me.”  
  
Daryl scoots over to her and holds it out farther. “Don’t have to be now.” He shakes it at her a bit. “Can just be us shootin’ the shit till yer dog gets back.”  
  
Lupe gives him a weak smile and takes the proffered cigarette. “Thanks.”  
  
He helps her light hers, then his own. He has to admit the look of pleasure she makes on her first hit is something he never thought he’d be privileged to see. He smiles half way until he hears clattering. Looking at the other side of the library the dog comes trotting back, covered in muck.  
  
“Good girl!” Lupe smiles and props the cigarette between her lips. She kneels down and pets the dog, wiping away the muck from her face with her bare hands and sloughing it onto the ground. “Should be clear around the perimeter now. We can head inside and let her do it again.”  
  
Barbacoa’s head pops up, ears perking and her eyes go wide, staring at something behind Daryl. Daryl turns, with his bow up and ready. A split second later he fires. His bolt nails a squirrel to the tree through its eye on the other side of the road.  
  
“Whoa…” Lupe says, staring up at him in awe, “Que chido.” She smiles. The dog looks up at Daryl with perked ears and a tilted head, then she turns back to the trees. A moment later, she shoots off into the brush. Daryl and Lupe watch as the dog bolts, full speed, and scrambles right up a tree trunk, nearly all the way to the branches, snarling and growling as she does. Lupe sprints forward, but Daryl grabs her. The dog looks like she’s doing okay getting down, scrambling slowly with her nails digging into the soft bark.  
  
Barbacoa comes trouncing out of the brush with something in her mouth. She walks right over to Daryl, sits down and drops the thing in her mouth at his feet. She looks back up at him with her big pit smile, and her tongue lolls to the side.  
  
It’s another squirrel. His eyes actually go wide in shock and he looks at Lupe. “She just climb a damn tree to nab a squirrel?!”  
  
Lupe chuckles, wide eyed herself. She shrugs and smiles. “Bitches gotta eat.” She turns towards the library, walking and finishing her smoke.  
  
The dog waits at Daryl’s feet, smiling. He looks down at Barbacoa and grunts, “Good girl.” He pets her head gently and then got into rubbing on her jowls. She leans into his hand and he can’t help but smile. He loved animals, but never got a chance to have them. His dad was a bastard. His mom was dead. And Merle couldn’t event take care of himself. He was like a pet and a baby all in one. Daryl hadn’t had the time for anything else. He chuckles. “I’ma take you out hunting then mutt.” The dog shakes her head so vibrantly little bits flick off of her. She looks back up at Daryl with that same open mouth smile.  
  
Lupe pats her thigh and the dog immediately takes off, bounding to her side. Daryl lets out a gruff laugh and follows them into the entrance. They knock on the door and wait for a few minutes, but nothing comes crashing against it. They know that doesn’t mean the place is empty, but it’s promising. Daryl reaches for the door and the dog gets ready, body bending like it gonna pounce.  
  
“Wait…” Lupe asks, putting out her hand to Daryl. The dog looks up at her and Lupe makes a movement with her hand, one finger around chest height, swooped to point up. The dog immediately sits and Lupe pets her affectionately. “Conmigo,” Lupe says, patting her thigh softly. The dog eases up and waits in a more relaxed position closer to her side.  
  
Daryl raises a brow. “You were barely in quarantine for like two days.”  
  
Lupe rolls her eyes. “Look we barely slept. Okay? I was too excited. I had a dog!” She opens the door and they step in carefully. Lupe has her sling shot out and the dog stalks carefully at her side. Daryl is on the other side of the dog, his bow up and ready.  
  
The Library is dark, quiet, and musty. Daryl shoots a corpse stuck behind a book cart. Lupe gets one with her sling shot between the shelves. Barbacoa is at her side, wriggling and whining.  
  
“Encuentras,” Lupe says. The dog is off through the dark library, silent and low.  
  
“What are we lookin’ for?” Daryl asks, voice soft and low.  
  
Lupe flicks her head to the side and whispers, “This way…”  
  
She goes off and Daryl follows behind. She’s careful through the space and he’s almost invigorated by her skill. She walks with the sling shot drawn, eyes scanning, and her gait silent. He trails after her in a very similar way. Each of them check opposite directions and stay out of each other’s line of fire. They travel through the dark, taking out a few more walkers in the shelves. They occasionally hear the clatter of nails and a growling walker, soon silenced by a damning snarl.  
  
Lupe stares at the isles intently and she suddenly stops. She gets closer to the label on the nearest wooden bookshelf and squints at the letters and numbers. “I think this is it.” She walks through the isle and starts scanning. Her face suddenly blooms with a delighted smile and she jumps excitedly when her eyes find a spot on the shelf. She goes to grab something, but she’s too short. She grunts, glaring at it above her.  
  
Daryl sidles up to her with a grin. “Need some help shorty?”  
  
Lupe looks at him, scowling and smiling at the same time. “Yeah, get on the ground and pretend to be a stool so I can get up there and grab the book I need.”  
  
Daryl has a sharp grin trying to spread on his features. “I got a better idea. Which one is it?”  
  
She points. “The red and black one with the A in the circle.”  
  
He reaches up easily to grasp it and pulls it down. He stares at the cover. “Anarchist Cookbook?” He glares at it and then at her. “Why the hell you need a cookbook so bad?”  
  
Her smile twitches with something knowing. “Open it up. Any page really,” she says, her hands fluttering.  
  
His eyes squint in doubt, but he opens it right up. “Home — brew blast — cannon?” he reads tentatively. “What the fuck?”  
  
Lupe’s smile thins out. “It’s basically Tactics to Fuck up Your Fascist Government 101. Not written during the best of times or by the best of people.” She grabs the book out of his hand and flips through it. “But over the years it’s been updated and a lot of anarchists lean more towards a radically collective approach to communities. Except An-Caps, they suck ass and aren’t really anarchists either. This book has a lot of information about home made explosives, but it also has some useful tips for survival during the collapse of society.”  
  
Daryl scoffs. “Shit, wish we had that in the beginning. Never heard of it before and it don’t sound like something a publisher would touch. Why’s it in a library?”  
  
Lupe snickers. “Well some librarians keep a copy for research students and such.” Her smile stretches. “Also sometimes anarchists go in and put them in public libraries just because. We seem to have gotten lucky.” She tucks the book in her bag and smiles at Daryl. “All done. This will help us with figuring out how to destroy the undead.” She lets out a whistle, a distinct fluttering tone. Daryl immediately hears the scrambling of Barbacoa coming their way.  
  
The dog is at her side and sitting in a blink. He shakes his head at both of them. “Jesus, I was right to think I need a tank around you,” Daryl grunts.  
  
Lupe grins. “Probably.”  
  
“You really just work at a grocery store before all this?” He grumbles.  
  
She looks down at her dog and pats her thigh before she starts walking. She smiles fondly. “I also bartended at a strip club.”  
  
“That where you got all your weird ass knowledge?” he chuckles.  
  
Lupe grins wide. “No actually, weirder and scarier things happened at the grocery store. The strip club was timid in comparison.”  
  
That actually makes Daryl laugh.  
  
“What?” Lupe asks. The sound of his laughter is completely alien, but rather nice. With that thought, her cheeks heat and her grin dissipates.  
  
Daryl’s grin is fond as he stares off. “M’brother used to drag me to strip clubs all the time. Shit experience if I’m gonna be honest, but that’s all his fault. Him and his friends would always fuck something up, get too wasted. Usually got our asses thrown out right quick. Just remembered a time it was funny instead of sad.” Sighing he continues, “Dancers were always nice about it though. Kinda figured they knew what he was on sight. I hated going with him, but it was better than getting a call that he was in jail again.” He shakes his head of the memories. “Keeping Merle controlled was like trying to stuff a hurricane in a shoe box.”  
  
Lupe scoffs. “Yeah, I can say we definitely had those types.” She laughs, thinking about her time at the club, behind the bar and up on the platform. She loved dancing and it was a good way to make solid money when she needed it most. “We had a good place. Lots of great people I worked with, and the boss was no one to fuck with. She was an old school hard ass and could eat bikers for lunch, probably chew your brother up like gum.” Her smile is wide. “Our place rocked. Wish you coulda come to ours, I would’ve showed you a good time.”  
  
“I’d’a liked that,” Daryl responds.  
  
It took them both a bit too long to realize what had just transpired. They quickly change the subject and start muttering nervously about their weapons. The dog sticks to Lupe’s side and they all walk out together in a stilted awkward silence.  
  
Daryl can’t stop blushing and cussing at himself inside his head. He is wildly upset that he insinuated he’d enjoy something that forward with her, after all she’s been through.  
  
Lupe is jittery and is consumed in her self flagellation. She was invasive. She’s disgusted with herself for offering such a thing, especially after Daryl said he hated going to the clubs.  
  
The dog trots happily between them, looking at each one with a huge smile on her face. She is just happy to be a part of a pack.


	22. Chapter 22

A day later, Alexandrians are stockpiling explosives and running some teams to the tractor supply place and nearby stores for supplies. Aside from Lupe’s awkward interaction with Daryl where she insinuated stripping for him and he politely, yet thoughtlessly agreed, things were looking up. Lupe didn’t like finding out that she is still close to DC, but so far she hadn’t heard anything about leather clad assholes terrorizing the area. Granted, Alexandria was pretty isolated so far.  
  
Lupe carries some bottles of nail polish remover through the community, heading over to Abraham’s house. He and Eugene are basically walking Anarchist Cookbooks and don’t mind storing all the explosives in the home they share with Rosita. Evidently there had been a bit of a romance between Rosita and the Ginger man, but it fizzled when they arrived to Alexandria, splitting on good terms. They’d traveled so long together, it didn’t matter if they weren’t fucking, the trust was already there and wasn’t about to budge.  
  
Lupe strolls past the gazebo, a seriously ridiculous sight since the world ended. She sees Enid and Ron sitting in it together. Their conversation seems tense, but as teenagers, there is always drama to be had. Especially when the world is shit and they’re just trying to survive somehow. Lupe can’t hear what’s being exchanged. Enid looks down as she talks. Ron is sitting up and leaning in her space, grabbing her knee. His face twists between sadness and anger and it looks like he keeps interrupting her.  
  
Lupe tries to mind her business, for Enid’s sake, as she is a pretty private person. She snuck up on Lupe every so often and they’d chat a little. However, they weren’t exactly close. Both are the type to keep people at arms length, especially after they’d lost so much. Sometimes it seemed easier to try with someone who had no expectations.  
  
Lupe puts her head down and focuses on the street in front of her, hoping they won’t see her and freak out. She knows kids need their privacy just as much as anyone else. It’s hard to get inside these walls in the first place. It often felt like they were stacked right on top of each other. She’d been trying to avoid Daryl and they kept bumping into each other constantly. She felt so weird around him. She tumbles down that rabbit hole until she hears Enid’s hard voice.  
  
“No! Ron, stop! It’s not even over! It never happened! We weren’t together in the first place. You can’t tell me who my friends are.”  
  
Lupe’s head shoots up to the gazebo just in time to see Enid shoved back against one of the pillars. Ron stands in front of her and holds her there. His hands squeeze around her arms, he pushes her back, his face contorting. He speaks low, through grit teeth, squeezing her and shaking her, thumping her against the wooden pole. He snarls as he leans in.  
  
Lupe can’t make out what he says. It isn’t because she’s too far anymore. Blood thumps through her veins and she can’t hear anything else. All she can focus on is Enid, pinned and stuck. Her face slack with terror. Lupe has yet to see Enid look so scared. But Lupe has seen that look before too many goddamn times in her life. She knows.  
  
Lupe is up on the Gazebo in a blink and slips her arm around Ron’s neck, yanking him away from Enid. The girl is frozen standing there, eyes wide as she shakes, leaning on the pole for stability, and breathing heavily. Lupe flings Ron about in her arms before tossing him onto the grass.  
  
She charges at him and snarls, “You like throwing your weight around with girls you little asshole? You like scaring people?”  
  
He scrambles away from her, but his face screws up, his nose pinching petulantly. “It’s not your fucking business you bitch!”  
  
Lupe’s eyes widen and she smiles an empty smile. “Oh, fucking really!?” she asks incredulously. She scoops his little ass up, not much taller than her, but skinny and noodley, and starts shaking him a bit before she throws him back down. “You like being rough? Huh? Is that what you think you like?” She stomps after him again.  
  
He keeps scrambling until he gets to his feet. “I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch! It’s none of your business!” he screeches at her.  
  
Her eyes narrow in a way that makes Ron shut up and take a step back. She creeps towards him, but stops herself at a healthy distance. “You wanna try me you little coward? Do it.” He swallows heavily, shaking as he looks her up and down. Her smile is devious as she snarls, "If you ever lay a hand on her again without her permission, I will cut them off, you little shit-stain.” With that, he’s off, running in the opposite direction. He may or may not have been crying, but Lupe doesn’t care.  
  
She turns and sees Enid, still frozen, shaking as she slides down the pole. Lupe speed walks over to her, looking around and making sure everyone else is occupied. She slowly approaches Enid and puts out a hand in her dazed line of vision. Enid’s head pops up, eyes too wide and too full of fear for a face so young. Lupe’s features soften and she smiles at her.  
  
Enid launches herself at Lupe, crying heartily into her shirt. Lupe wraps her arms around Enid and holds her, comforts her. “I’m here reina, I got you.” It takes only a few seconds for Enid to buckle it all in and shake herself into feeling almost normal. She looks up at Lupe silent and nervous. “Don’t worry, I got you, I mean it. I won’t let him bug you no more. Come on. Let’s get you somewhere else.”  
  
Enid nods, but remains quiet. Lupe grabs the nail polish remover and then motions for Enid to follow her. They walk down the street together in silence. Lupe stays close, she sort of had to since Enid has a grip on her arm like a vice. When Carl comes walking down the street, casually heading towards Abraham’s he crosses right into their path.  
  
He sees Enid and his eyes go wide with concern. “Enid!” he gasps and jogs right over. “Enid, were you crying? Are you —,”  
  
Lupe steps into his path and genuinely smiles at his concern. “Carl, could you take this to Abraham’s? Enid and I need some space to talk and I’d appreciate if you could respect that."  
  
Carl gives a fleeting look to Enid, his face crumpling with worry as she hides behind Lupe. His face goes hard, but not aggressive. It’s like he’s trying to hide his own feelings too. He looks at Lupe, sincere, and says, “Of course, I understand. I’d be happy to take it.” His eyes flash to Enid and he sighs a little. “Just… let me know if I can help.”  
  
Lupe winks at him and nods. “Thank you Carl. We will, okay?” He nods and takes the box. He doesn’t bother Enid, though Lupe can see he desperately wants to. When he’s gone, they get a few more steps before Enid finally speaks.  
  
“Where are we going?” she sniffles.  
  
Lupe replies, “My house.”  
  
“Why?” Enid asks, her voice still shaky.  
  
“You’ll see.” Lupe smiles at Enid. They reach the porch and Lupe walks right up.  
  
Enid doesn’t follow quite so surely. She’s really confused about what to do. Everything in her body is telling her to flee.  
  
“Promise it’ll help.” Lupe smiles. When Enid still seems unsure, Lupe sighs. “If this doesn’t work I’ll personally take you out to the woods to scream at the trees.” Enid’s head pops up, looking found out. Lupe smiles. “They’re really good listeners.”  
  
Lupe turns away from Enid and opens her door. “You’re welcome to come in!” she shouts over her shoulder.  
  
After a minute or so of deliberation where Enid stands at the bottom steps and stares at the perimeter wall, only yards away from her, she finally takes a step. Then the next one. Soon she’s inside Lupe’s house. She looks around at the cookie cutter space. Lupe has boxes on the floor filled with all of the generic knick knacks each house had out for showing. Her eyes finally track to Lupe as she walks towards the back door. She knocks on the wood three times, waits a few seconds, then opens it.  
  
The big black dog sits behind it wagging her tail. When she sees Enid she barks happily and her body thrashes around excitedly, still trying to maintain her sitting position. Lupe fights her smile. “Conmigo.” The dog calms, barely, but stays glued to her side as they walk in. Just as Lupe expected, a huge smile spreads over Enid’s face.  
  
“The dog!” She smiles.  
  
“The dog,” Lupe confirms, “her name is Barbacoa.”  
  
Enid’s face is awash with a gentle emotion. Her lips quiver, but she does look so happy. “Can I pet her?”  
  
Lupe smiles. “She’ll love you forever. Let her give you a sniff first.” Lupe looks down at the dog. “Conocerlos,” she says softly and Barbacoa carefully goes over to Enid and starts sniffing. The dog finishes her assessment and returns to Lupe’s side. Enid slowly sits on the couch. Lupe sniffs, amused at her vibrating dog. “Irala.”  
  
Barbacoa runs at Enid, her body writhing with each step, consumed with excitement. She pounces up onto the couch and climbs right on top of Enid’s lap. The two are a giggling mass of limbs, kisses, and belly rubs. Lupe sits down on a nearby chair until they’re done getting familiar. Once they both calm and settle into better spirits, Enid looks up with a weak smile.  
  
“Better?” Lupe grins.  
  
Enid nods slowly, rubbing Barbacoa’s big head as she pushes it up into Enid hand. The large dog sprawls happily on her lap.  
  
“Do you want to talk?” Lupe asks.  
  
Enid sighs. “There’s not much to talk about.” Lupe doesn’t reply and just waits. Enid looks up at her, hesitant and scared. “I kissed Ron, once. Just because… I’d never done it before the end of the world. I just wanted to try. I told him that. I asked Will but he’s asexual and wasn’t comfortable with it.”  
  
“Did you ask Carl?” Lupe coaxes.  
  
Enid shakes her head. “It was before any of you got here. And it was just a silly kiss because none of us ever had the chance. I mean, Will was basically right there, even if he didn’t really care about it.”  
  
“And Ron decided there was more to it?” Lupe inquires. Enid nods. “Is this the first time he’s touched you like that?” Enid quakes elsewhere as she shakes her head. Lupe sighs hard. “Do you already know this isn’t your fault?”  
  
Enid’s face crumples. She bites her bottom lip fully into her mouth and shudders. “He kept telling me I was leading him on,” her voice quavers.  
  
Lupe bites her own lip, but mostly to keep herself from having murderous thoughts about a teenager. “Well, you absolutely were not. You told him exactly what you wanted. He didn’t listen.”  
  
“He told me not to hang out with Carl cause we were getting too close.” Enid shudders, trying to cover it by petting the dog. “Then he kept telling me he loved me.” Her entire face curves into a scowl at that.  
  
Lupe licks her canine with her lips pressed together. Her shoulders drop as she exhales. “Doesn’t matter what he says when his actions prove the opposite.” She looks over at Enid who’s carefully returning her glance out of the corner of her eye. Lupe smiles sadly. “I’ve been in unfortunate positions before with men. They don’t always handle their emotions well, no one does really, but he laying the foundations for an abusive relationship. Love isn’t controlling. Love doesn’t grab you and toss you around.”  
  
Enid nods, her body tense. “I barely like him. I don’t know why he’s so obsessed with me. We don’t even talk.” As she keeps petting the dog, she relaxes again.  
  
“Because he’s created something in his head he can’t let go of. It’s not your responsibility to figure it out, it’s his. He made it, he can deconstruct it, and it’s fully his responsibility to do so,” Lupe insists. “You have made yourself clear and it’s his problem now. It doesn’t mean what you’re feeling isn’t valid, but seriously, it’s on him to work through this in a healthy way. Your job is to set your boundaries and it’s his job to respect them.”  
  
Enid sits, unsure, inspecting some secret in Barbacoa’s coat. She sniffles and shifts. “He’s selfish. He’s always been selfish.” She sighs. “He bullies his little brother, really bad. So does his shitty dad.”  
  
Lupe doesn’t miss the venom in her statement. Her eyebrow arcs but she doesn’t push it yet. “His dad and brother are who?”  
  
“Pete and Sam. His mom is Jessie.”  
  
Lupe slots the information into its proper place. “Thank you for the help.” Enid nods. Lupe waits a little for her to talk.  
  
“I kissed Carl,” Enid blurts. Her eyes darting around the room nervously.  
  
“Que chido.” Lupe smiles and Enid frowns at her, confused. “Basically means ‘how cool!’” She tilts her head. “Who was a better kisser?”  
  
Enid snorts so loud Barbacoa jumps in her lap. The two snicker for a bit and Enid tries to hide her smile. Her eyes go a little sharp, and the hardness goes back up. “What? You’re not gonna call me a slut?”  
  
Lupe laughs. Almost uproariously. Enid’s shocked. Lupe calms down after a bit, sniffling and wiping her eyes. “Oh bebe, no! Honey, first of all, you’ve kissed two people. Two. By your age, I had a goddamn roster of all genders okay?” She giggles to herself. “And honestly, no, I’d never call you that. I mean my sister and I used to call each other mean names all the time, but that was like, an agreement. And we could always pull the plug if it went too far. That word is just one of many used by insecure people to hurt others. It’s bull-shit. If you wanna kiss two guys or two thousand, who gives a fuck?” She sighs. “But unless you and your family had a solid sex talk, there should probably be an open, honest discussion with an adult you trust.”  
  
She leans closer to Enid. “I know we’re strangers, but with the world the way it is, I’m not sure it matters. So I’m here for you. My dog is here for you — like, you don’t even have to talk to me if you just wanna see the dog. I totally get that.” She gets to smile as Enid snorts again. “You can kiss everyone or kiss no one, only you get to decide. Your consent is the most important thing in a relationship. I mean, your partner’s is too, but let’s get down to basics, okay? You deserve to have someone who listens to you, respects you, and treats you not just ‘right’ but how you want to be treated.”  
  
Lupe huffs out a tight breath. She’d had talks like this before with her sister. Alma didn’t do much dating. She was a bit of a late bloomer in that department and just wasn’t interested. Lupe was trying to help her navigate a sex crazed world that wanted to capitalize on her as soon as it could, both before and after the apocalypse. Lupe’s heart starts beating too fast, aching and knowing a part of it is lost. She tries to keep her breath even to not alarm Enid, but she’s struggling. Bad.  
  
“Thanks Lupe.” Enid sniffles. “I don’t really have anyone to talk to here. Not many people get it.” She looks around and pets the dog. “I mean, Maggie is really cool too, but she’s super busy.”  
  
“I can confirm Maggie is cool. Sasha as well.” Lupe smiles. “Sometimes adults have a lot of bullshit and they don’t want to put it on kids. That’s not to dismiss you, I know you’re growing up, but for us, that feels like a lifetime ago. We lose sight of that easily because many times adults have their heads so far up their own asses trying to prove they’re perfect.”  
  
“No one likes to be wrong.” Enid nods.  
  
“It’s true, that’s really hard. For some reason, it’s harder as an adult because you’re expected to have it figured out.” Lupe shrugs. “I dunno, reality is fake, time is an illusion.”  
  
Enid snorts again, her face crinkling in laughter. Lupe smiles wide at the sight. “The universe is a computer simulation,” Enid giggles.  
  
Lupe laughs. “Wouldn’t that just be fucked up if we were a bunch of SIMS or some shit? The player is an asshole.” They snicker together for a bit. Lupe stands up and says, “Listen take whatever time you need. I mean it. If you’re here for three more hours or you need to take a nap with the dog, just fucking do it. It’s the end of the world, right?”  
  
Enid smiles. “Right.”  
  
“Alright, I have to check in with Abraham, but I can come and look in on you after a while, if you want?” she mutters.  
  
Enid’s about to respond but there’s a hard set of knocks on the door. Lupe’s heart rate spikes. She freezes, her breath stuttering in her chest. It wasn’t the right knock. It wasn’t the right knock. Its wasn’t the right —  
  
“Oh shit…” she hears Enid whisper.  
  
Lupe snaps out of her trance. “W-what’s wrong?”  
  
Enid turns from the window, her features twist, and Lupe sees fear on her young face again. “It’s Pete, Ron’s dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, i'm fudging with the timeline just about as much as the show does. The "kids" are more fifteen/sixteen/seventeen area of age as opposed to the show which is... ambiguous to say the least. By the time they reach Alexandria, Carl can rent a car and do his own taxes. So i'm just kinda doing what I want. I did try to stick to their timeline of this not being more than like...2ish years.... which seems improbable, just with traveling on foot so much! so its like.... apocalypse started 3ish years ago at most...Humans are messy!! They just splat! right to rock bottom with a few undead cannibals.
> 
> Anyways, I think about things too much I'll turn to stone. So yeah, Lupe isn't beating up on a 13 year old. I'm not exactly proud of her for beating up on a 17 year old....but mother fucker knows better!!!! Lots of us are fucked up kid!!! No. Excuses. For. Being. Abusive. read therapy books or something. they're free now.
> 
> On a more positive note, I am seriously mapping out the AU. If there are scenes you might want to see and you want to let me know, you can! I already have like....so many relationships and ideas, so i might have to tweak ideas... But I'll at least give you a hint and say that our beloved sisters wouldn't meet Negan until the rest of the alexandrians do (which...yikes... gonna be bad)...So they'll have lots of facetime in Alexandria. I have some thoughts about it already...
> 
> enjoy


	23. Chapter 23

Lupe’s heart drops into her stomach and her blood runs cold. She looks over at the door for a second, a murderous chill forming in her veins. She blinks, and then a soft smile is directed at Enid.   
  
“Take the dog into my room. Lock the door. Do not come out at all, no matter what you hear. If I do call the dog’s name…” her jaw clenches and her tone goes low, “…let her come.” Lupe approaches Enid slowly, fear still vibrant in her young eyes. “Can you do that for me?” she asks calmly.  
  
“I — I — shouldn’t leave you with him.” Enid bends towards Lupe, tears in her eyes. Her whisper is haunted, “He hits them. His family. All of them.”  
  
Lupe’s hands clench, fingernails digging into scars she doesn’t like to acknowledge. “Get in my room,” her voice is deadly still. “Take the dog. Lock the door.”  
  
Enid stares at her and the knocks sound again. Lupe twitches hard, her eyes shutting tight as she grits her teeth.  
  
“Please…” Lupe says softly. Enid nods, blinking through tears as she walks away from Lupe without turning back. The dog is torn between who to follow. Lupe turns to Barbacoa, “Irala.” The dog does as she’s told. Lupe rolls her neck and goes to answer the door. She exhales steadily and grabs the knob.  
  
Lupe rips it open and leans hard on the door jamb, blocking his view and access to her home. “Hi!” Her smile is vibrant. “What the fuck do you want?” she says in her sweetest tone.  
  
Pete’s face scrunches up in distaste. Obviously thrown off by her immediate disrespect. “Are you Lupe?”  
  
“I am!” She keeps that sweet smile. “I sure am.” She squints at him. “Who the fuck are you?”  
  
Pete scowls at her. “I’m Pete, I’m the town doctor.”  
  
Lupe’s face twists in a parody of disbelief. “I’m pretty sure Denise is the town doctor since she’s been taking care of me for the past few weeks. I’ve never even seen you before.” She squints at him hard for two beats. “Pfffft. Doctor…” she giggles airily, waving a dismissive hand in his direction.  
  
“Excuse me,” he snarls, letting that little mask of his slip. “I was healing after being attacked by that psycho Rick.”  
  
Lupe stops laughing to sneer at him like she knows his darkest secrets. She snorts. “Yeah, what a doctor! Walking around calling traumatized people ‘psycho’. Real fuckin’ nice.”   
  
“May I come in? I need to discuss something with you,” Pete demands.  
  
Lupe grins. “You may the fuck not! I don’t know you from a pile of shit, honey.”  
  
“Let me in,” he growls.  
  
Her eyes go wide and oblivious. Her reply is saccharine, “You’re a stranger. I don’t know if you’re a real doctor. I’ve never seen you before. That’s unsafe. Why would I let you inside my home?”  
  
His hand slams against her door, but it doesn’t budge. She had herself ready for that for a while. He snarls, “Because you put your filthy hands on my son, you fat bitch!”  
  
Her smile morphs to a knowing one. She tilts her head and narrows her eyes, her reply twitches her lip into a snarl, “You speak to your wife like that?”  
  
Pete bellows nonsense and slams against the door.   
  
Lupe sniffs, unamused, and lets him barge in, rolling her eyes as he stumbles into her foyer. “You done?” she asks with a deadpan tone. “I’ve spit on the corpses of guys who would eat you alive. You really don’t wanna do this.”  
  
Pete’s huffing, wild eyed. “What gives you the right?!” He wavers slightly in front of her.  
  
She scoffs. “Mother fucker, are you drunk?” She laughs. “God, this is just such a fucking mess. You’re supposed to be a doctor! What the hell is wrong with you?”  
  
“You have no right! You shouldn’t be putting your hands on my son! He’s man enough to handle his own business, you dumb cow!” he snarls and stomps at her.   
  
She stands her ground as he grabs her upper arm. She sighs, grabbing his hand and quickly twisting backwards. It makes his arm straighten and his body bow to keep the limb stable. He wails as she twists and holds the joints at their limit. She’s very good at figuring that out after all this time.  
  
“I would very much appreciate if you listened right now,” Lupe snarls as he blinks, “I need you to know that I am not joking or bluffing, I am dead-to-rights serious.” He stares at her, still incensed and positively wasted. She starts backing up towards her door, him stumbling along so his arm won’t twist.   
  
“I won’t break your hand because you’re a surgeon and evidently, people need you. Though, that’s currently debatable in my opinion. I will tell you this once,” Lupe’s words bite out through a growl, “keep your domestic abusing hands off of me. If you ever lay a hand on me again, I will start at your toes and cut my entire fucking way up to your eye balls, do you understand me?”  
  
He strains against her hold, eyes wide and frantic, like a rightly rabid beast being caged. He’s blustering and huffing, entire body covered in sweat and smelling like a bar urinal. He raises his other arm and throws a punch.  
  
Lupe uses her other arm to block it, with a twist and curl of her own limb, she traps his wrist in her arm pit. He flails against her and they turn, bumping into the things in her foyer. She adjusts her hold on his other wrist and smiles.   
  
“Oh, so you don’t understand?”  
  
Too fast, she pulls him down the same time she moves to thrust her forehead into his face. She hears the crack. People in Alabama probably heard the crack. Then Pete starts to scream. Lupe stumbles slightly, wobbling and disentangling herself from the screaming bleeding mess of a man. She gets him to her doorway and kicks him in the chest, sending him flying ass over end off her porch and into the dirt road outside her door.  
  
She stalks out of her house, painted crimson, and huffing hard. Pete wails in the dirt, covered in blood, mud, and tears, writhing like the worm he is. Her boot lands hard on the first step of her porch, looming over him.  
  
“No!” A voice wails as it comes closer. Jesse dives on top of Pete, weeping. “What did you do!?” she screams at Lupe, her hands shaking over her pitiful husband. “You attack my son? My husband? You psycho monster!”  
  
Lupe practically jumps off the porch, stomping in the dirt until she’s just feet away from Jesse. Pete scrambles halfway up into his wife’s lap, whimpering. Lupe glares at both of them with her teeth grit tight.   
  
She huffs out an unsteady breath and looks at Jesse. “I understand you’re in a delicate situation,” her voice softens, but it’s unstable, "I know you’re scared, but you have people who will help you, if you want it. You should want it, especially for the kids.“   
  
Lupe's teeth grind as Jesse curls her body around her husband protectively. “But until you feel like you’re ready, keep this despicable piece of shit away from me or I’ll kill him just to watch him turn,” she snarls. She ambles away unsteadily, shaking furiously and trying to blot out the anger coursing through her, telling her to end it. There isn’t space left in this world for the likes of Pete. She shudders to a stop and looks over her shoulder at Jesse. “Oh, and tell Ron, if he bothers Enid again and doesn’t sort out his own emotional shit, I’m gonna cut off his fingers and feed them to his undead dad.”   
  
Jesse gasps, a garbled and appropriately horrified cry. She stares at Lupe and looks like she sees the devil.   
  
Lupe snorts. “I don’t know how shit works around here, but they don’t get a free pass with me.” She walks away, her steps sure as she corners her house. Her legs go weak halfway to her back yard and she stumbles through her gate. She wanted nothing more than to bash that monstrous shit Pete into the mirror in her foyer. She could have easily thrown him to the ground and crushed his skull in the door. She could have strung him up in the middle of the town by his own intestines and danced in his blood, screaming for justice.  
  
She shakes her head and stumbles to the door of her laundry room. She pauses as she reaches for the knob, seeing red on her hands and arms. She looks up and her reflection is prominent in the tiny window of the door, because her face is obscenely covered in blood. She grimaces. “Aw fuck, that’s so much worse…”  
  
She has a feeling she won’t be invited to stay much longer in Alexandria. Hopefully they’ll let her finish the attack on the horde, then she could leave this place with a clear conscious. A snippet of someone’s face pops into her mind and she jumps back from her reflection, shocked at herself. She shakes her head and wobbles.  
  
There’s a sudden snuffing at her ass, a nose jabbing into her. She turns slowly and sees Barbacoa at her side. Her eyes go wide and she stumbles forward, shouting, “Enid!?”  
  
The girl comes running around the corner just about the same time Lupe screams her name. Lupe deflates in relief, terrified Pete or someone else went storming in and the girl got caught up in this nightmare.   
  
“Lupe! Fuck!” Enid screams this time, she runs forward, trying to support Lupe as she stumbles. “W-we can get you to Denise!”  
  
Lupe shakes her head. “Nah, nah, it’s okay, I’m okay. Not my blood. Take the dog, go rest, I’m fine —,”  
  
“I got her,” a gruff voice says from behind them.   
  
Lupe whirls around in shock, not in top shape, but still ready for a fight. She jams Enid behind her and a growl forms in her throat automatically.  
  
“S’alright Lupe,” Daryl says as he steps forward. He reaches out carefully. “Can I help ya inside?”  
  
“They’ll put me in the cells…” Lupe shakes her head, dazed. Her face bends slightly, exhaustion rattling inside her. She slowly puts a hand to her forehead and winces. “I’m gonna get kicked out.” She looks at Daryl and Enid. “They’re gonna kick me out.”  
  
Enid looks at Daryl and they share a quick and silent conversation. “Take the dog Enid. Go tell Rick what happened before Pete or Jesse start spinnin’ yarn.” He steps closer to Lupe, his hand still outstretched. “I got somewhere I can take ya. They won’t look for you there.”  
  
Lupe, dazed, stares at his hand for a good long time.  
  
Then she takes it.


	24. Chapter 24

Daryl helps her limp down and across the road a few houses. He watched the entire spectacle with Pete unfold from down the road. It wasn’t exactly a quiet interaction and he’d been at a vantage point to catch Pete take a swing at her. He’d started running the second that happened, but slid to a stop once he saw Pete getting chucked out of her house, covered in blood.  
  
They way she stomped out of her home, awash with red, made him think she was some sort of act of God. She handled herself, not only beating that piece of shit’s ass, but also saying the right things. After hearing about what happened both to Pete’s family and Enid, Daryl was sure he would have never let that guy keep breathing. Daryl had the compulsion to stomp on Pete’s neck, but he saw Lupe stumbling over to the side of her house and realized he was needed elsewhere.  
  
He opens the side door to the garage, and half carries Lupe in to the darkness. Leaning her up against the work bench, he mutters, “Gonna hit the light.” The tickle of her hair on his lips shocks him, so he pulls back, realizing he’s too close. “Stick tight, I’ll be right back.”  
  
He walks over to the door and flips on the light, shooting the entire garage into brightness. Immediately, he hears a disastrous clatter. He turns and Lupe’s not leaning against his workbench anymore. He stalks over, cutting around his bike and sees her all the way across on the other side of the room. She’s on her ass, having scrabbled across the floor, tucked between a standing toolbox and shelves full of parts. Her eyes are wide and her heaving breaths rattle all the way from there.  
  
Lupe’s eyes are glued to the bike, but her mind is stuck in a repeating memory. Her stomach scratched and ached being shoved over the seat. Her knees and shins scraped against metal of the engine. The exhaust pipe burned her skin from its residual heat. Her eyes ached with unshed tears as she faked orgasm after orgasm until he was satisfied. Her nails bit into leather and she grit her teeth while he held her hair. He told her off for ‘flirting’ with the new female mechanic with each thrust. She shook and tasted bile on her tongue, his voice is in her head, moaning her name reproachfully. But it isn’t her name. It isn’t her at all.  
  
“Lupe…” Daryl’s voice finally breaks through and she looks up at him. His face squints in an unusual twist of concern and disbelief. “Ya’alright?” She doesn’t respond. She just stares at him. “Lupe?”  
  
Her words bark out, “I - I can’t — the — the bike — I can’t —,“ her voice mutters out to nothing and she just shakes her head. Her hands curl in front of her face and her knees slide up to her chest.  
  
“Scared of a little bike?” Daryl tries to joke with a weak smirk. “Ain’t gon’ do nothing to you. Not like it bites,” he mutters.   
  
Lupe grips her shoulder. He liked to hurt her and he really bit into her that day. Left a gnarly bruise that couldn’t be called a hickey or a love bite. He marked his territory. He proved a point and made sure she and everybody else knew it too. She grips that spot like it still aches and her tension is so high she snaps at Daryl, “It’s different when you get forced over one and —!”   
  
He stares at her in shock and she bites her mouth closed. The moment is silent, but buzzing with tension. Lupe watches as understanding sews onto his features. Her eyes flash away before she has to see him pity her.   
  
There’s a door between her and the cursed bike. She looks back at Daryl and his head is hanging, jaw moving as he stands in the silence. She jumps up and immediately tries to flee through the door. It’s open, her foot is touching tile instead on concrete, and she’s about to launch herself to the moon with how much force she’s putting behind this escape. She doesn’t think she’ll even stop at the gates.  
  
“My uncle…” His voice is almost a whisper, but too gravelly to ever be called soft.  
  
She freezes, hands gripping the doorjamb and thankful for it. The depth of emotion digging into her, just in the way he says those two words, makes her entire body wither. The depraved idea that a little baby Daryl was attacked by one of his own kin in such a monstrous way had her heart in tatters. Her hand leaves a smear of blood on the frame as she turns to lean on the opposite side. Her teary eyes meet his belligerently blue ones.  
  
“My uncle used to take me into the garage and teach me stuff when my dad was wasted. I learned almost everything I know from him.” He sniffs. His eyes look away, but he still goes on. “He took me there for other things too. Think my brother mighta scared him off, he disappeared once I hit eleven or so.”  
  
He’s gnawing on his lower lip again, mumbling, “I didn’t get it till I was older, a lot of it didn’t hit until it was too late.” He shakes his head and lets out a laugh that’s far more pain than joy. “Damn near scared of a wrench till I was in my twenties.” He looks around at the garage and sighs.   
  
“M'sorry that happened to you.” He exhales sharply. “They — they say predators take advantage of defenseless people in bad situations.” He looks at her, but it’s a shaky thread with the vulnerability eating them up. “It’s not that you were weak, but you were in need and they just wanted power over sumthin,” his words build, a momentum of grief and long tended rage. “They manipulate you into believing that it’s almost a kindness, that you deserve it,” his voice goes hard, that stone grating sound that rattles Lupe’s spine. He finishes a harsh, with a still wrath, “I didn’t and you didn’t either.” He softens just as fast, nibbling on that inner lip. “I won’t hurt you like that. Not ever. And I’d kill anyone who tried.” Lupe can only stare at him with open mouthed despair on her face. He nods. “Let me grab my stuff and we can go to the bathroom and —“   
  
“No!” Lupe looks around the garage. It is meticulously organized. It is clean, cared for. There’s even a cot in the corner and she can see his crossbow lying against it. She’s huffing breaths in and out of her mouth and she’s trying to see this place for what it is. It means something to him. It’s sacred. A monument to his inner strength. And for whatever reason Daryl didn’t want her to be afraid of it. He didn’t want her to feel like she was the only one that could be scared.   
  
Lupe leans against the door jamb, gaining more strength and stability. She bashfully tries to wipe the blood from her hands off the jamb with her sleeve. Her eyes are partially distracted by the task, but her mind isn’t. This man before her looks like an embodiment of the Saviors. But all those numpties dressed in leather weren’t truly deserving of their tough reputation. Sure, they were mean as snakes, but corner them right and they kneeled and cried like the spineless shits they were. Daryl didn’t seem like the type to kneel.  
  
Lupe stares at the man she almost killed two times. There he is, tough as nails and telling her about his pain so she wouldn’t feel alone or ashamed of her fears. That was honest bravery. She’s stunned and moved and only knew of one thing to do.  
  
“I’d like to stay in here...” Lupe looks around nervously as she steps back in, faltering slightly on the small dip. She doesn’t think she’ll ever shake his shadow looming over her, but with Daryl standing there, she does get the weirdest little glimpse of safety.  “Maybe, I — I can s-see your bike after?”  
  
He gives her a tight nod as he chews the inside of his lip and leads her to where she can sit, away from his bike. He pulls out a first aid kit and unzips it, getting tools out to clean her up. She’s consumed with analyzing the way he touches her. There’s not a lick of desire in there at all, but she feels a gentleness she can’t quite understand. Daryl sits there and cares for her. He isn’t even wearing his vest. She wonders if he started SuperMan-ing it every time she was around. She snorts softly.  
  
Daryl’s lip quirks as he wipes at her hands and arms. “What?” he grumbles.  
  
Lupe smiles halfway. “Nothin’ really, you’re just nice.”  
  
“I ain’t nice,” he grouses.  
  
Lupe shoots him a very pointed look.  
  
He sniffs out his nose at her, petulant. “Fine, whatever, I’m nice. Ain’t like it’s some big secret.”  
  
Lupe grins at him. “It’s kind of a secret.”  
  
Daryl huffs and shakes his head, moving up to her shoulders. Her tank top is splattered with Pete’s blood, but that’s out of his league. “You get your top to Carol and she’ll get the blood out. She makes laundry look like it popped out of a fuckin’ commercial.”  
  
Lupe smiles and nods. “Thanks.” She looks at Daryl for a few more beats. “You close to Carol?” she asks with slight disbelief.  
  
Daryl looks at her strangely. “Yeah, course. We been through it all together. She’s blood.”  
  
Lupe narrows her stare at him. “Then she’s really not as hapless as she seems, right?”  
  
He blinks at her and starts cleaning on her neck. He gently grasps her shoulder to get leverage on a stubborn stain, thumb sliding over her sweaty skin unintentionally. She shivers under his touch and he pulls away like her skin was a mousetrap.   
  
“M’sorry,” he mumbles, his entire face heating up unexpectedly.  
  
Lupe cringes. “I should apologize. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She still doesn’t want to talk about any of this, but she has to explain her behavior. “I, uh, I’m not used to being touched — treated, uh,…”  
  
“Nice?” Daryl huffs in disbelief.  
  
Lupe gives him a wincing smile.  
  
“Maybe —,” Daryl freezes, offered words stuck in his throat. He’s never been good at stuff like this. He’s never been a talker, always feeling tongue tied and empty brained. He looks at her though, and for whatever reason he sees all the patience in the world. It scares the shit out of him. But it’s there and he can’t make it go away. Even when he tried avoiding her or not talking around her, it just beamed, like she was still there, just waiting for it to be right. He hated when people pried and prodded and pushed till he talked. Sometimes he was damn tired of it. All that talking, but not a goddamned thing said. Carol knew it too, it’s why she was so good at bullshitting all the people in the community. The fact that Lupe saw through both of them meant there was a reflection there. A reflection of trauma shining through. “Maybe ya just need a chance to get used to it."  
  
A garbled type of snort that’s pretty close to a sob comes out of Lupe. She looks at Daryl, fleetingly, but nods gently. They sit there for a second and he goes to wipe her face off with the cloth. Lupe carefully stills his hand and holds it for just a second. He’s about to ask her what’s wrong when she carefully reaches for the hand he pulled away from her shoulder. With an act of kindness and trust no saint could think up, she carefully places his hand back against her skin. She doesn’t look at him, but she tilts her chin up, exposing her neck and all the blood.  
  
They’re silent as he completes the work. When he’s done he has a close up view of the scars along her jaw. Long lines. Little punctures. He doesn’t know what to think of those marks, like someone put a crown of thorns around her neck. The unknown reasons behind the scars make him broil with an untended rage, but he doesn’t think they’re ugly neither. He hates the ones that litter his body. So he understands when her chin immediately drops after he says he’s done.   
  
Lupe’s head snaps down before Daryl can move away from the spot on her jaw. In a weird and confusing instinct, he catches her cheek in his hand. Their eyes go wide as they meet, close enough to feel each other’s breath on their faces. Daryl’s hand is warm, like he’s sitting next to the best fire, on a night with the clearest skies. He feels like he’s faced with an unfathomable universe, just because of the heat of her. His mouth drops open to bring in more air and she’s just staring at him. Blank.   
  
“M’sorry —,” he blurts. He’s trying to move his hand, but he feels as slow as molasses watching her face sit there, empty.  
  
“DAAAARRYYLLLLL!” Eric swings into the room by the doorjamb. By the time he finishes knocking ‘shave and a haircut’ onto the open door, he catches them, the first aid kit, Lupe’s back, and Daryl’s hand on her cheek.  
  
Lupe jumps about a mile, grabbing the largest wrench within reach as she pushes Daryl beneath the table. She swings as she turns, with terror and rage moving her limbs like a marionette. The simple knock drove her to a murderous fear and the wrench is so close to destroying its source. She felt pure elation.  
  
Until she saw the fear on Eric’s face.   
  
Eric. Not him.  
  
She pulls back on the wrench and it swings through, missing Eric by a few good inches, but ramming into the shelves right by the doorway. The sound is staggering, echoed only when she drops the wrench and it clangs to the floor.  
  
“I’m —,” she’s shaking so bad she can’t finish. She can’t finish because she’s staring into Eric’s justifiably horrified face and she knows sorry isn’t good enough. She looks back at Daryl stumbling to his feet and sees his stricken gaze. Lupe does the only thing she knows how to do as good as killing, and bolts.   
  
She’s gone. Just gone. Daryl is frozen, more out of shock and slight admiration. He’d never had anyone catch him by surprise like that. He’d never been knocked on his ass so fast neither. He realizes with a shaky breath that she didn’t hesitate one second to try and protect him during whatever that was. It could have been a simple instinct of her being on the road with her sister so long. The fact that her instinct still includes saving others, even strangers, moved him. And she was scared. He saw the soul leave her eyes after Eric came a knocking.   
  
Eric probably didn’t think anyone but Daryl was in the garage. He wouldn’t have had any reason to, cause pretty much only Daryl ever went in there. Eric and Aaron are the goofy brothers he always dreamed about, teasing him relentlessly, and giving just as much as they got. They weirdly took to him and accepted him as he was. Not once did they ever look at him with regret. Even then, Daryl looks over at Eric and the poor man has a hand over his chest as he gazes blankly with dazed eyes. A distant smile blooms.   
  
Eric chuckles airily and swallows as he get solidity back to his knees. “I thought she liked me more than you, but right then she would have killed me to save your life if I was a threat.”   
  
“Ain’t nothin,” Daryl lies. “She’s decent. Protected her sister alone for all these years. She’d do it for anybody.”   
  
“That’s why she should stay,” Eric huffs and nods like it’s official.  
  
“Ricks unsure.” Daryl exhales. “Worried she can’t play well with others. Might be unstable.” He shakes his head and chuffs. “She’s about as stable as anyone who made it this long without walls.”  
  
“I hear she beat the shit out of Pete,” Eric says. “That true?”  
  
“Yeah, I watched it happen. Fucker attacked her. I was gonna go talk to Rick after I was done here,” he grunts and starts packing up the trash a little too roughly.   
  
Eric walks over and starts to help him. “Anyone who beats on an abusive asshole is golden in my book,” he snickers.  
  
Daryl huffs a bit. “I see it the same way, but I dunno.” He shrugs. “People might see her as feral.”  
  
Eric grins halfway. “Well, Ron assaulted Enid, our angel, in broad daylight. And Pete is a piece of shit and deserved it — deserves worse, if you ask me.” He snuffs with a scowl. “If it weren’t for Deanna trying to keep it quiet and telling anyone who spoke out that they risked banishment, we would have thumped his ass already too.” Eric grins with a mischievous glint in his eye. It faded and he sighs. “Unfortunately we were all to scared of what’s out there to be rightfully scared of what’s in here. We are all cowards. All of us,” his tone is laden with regret.   
  
A second later Eric chuckles looking over at Daryl with a knowing grin. “Once upon a time people thought you were feral too.”   
  
“They still do and they’re right…” Daryl snorts and shakes his head, chewing on his lip. “She don’t deserve that. She ain’t feral, just a survivor. How’d you think you or anyone else’d fare out there just by being sweet?” He nods his head, sounding more confident. “We mighta had a rocky start, her and I, but we figured our shit out once she learned I ain’t a threat to her. She’s been nice as hell to everyone else. Working hard. And I believe her when she says she ain’t hurt no one that didn’t have it comin’.”   
  
Eric lifts up a hand, pausing to sniff the air. “What is that?” He looks around, so animatedly searching even Daryl glances about and takes a sniff at himself. Eric inhales again. “Is that Protectiveness? With a whiff of — are — are you impressed? Daryl Dixon?!”  Eric’s face breaks into a wide and bright smile, mouth open to indicate his faux surprise and shock.  
  
“Stop…” Daryl drawls.   
  
Eric grins. “You don’t have to defend her to me. I liked her once I heard she knocked you on your ass.”   
  
Daryl snorts. “Twice. First time I nearly pissed myself.”   
  
Eric smiles, gentle and sincere. “That is a reasonable response”   
  
Daryl smiles this time.   
  
“You should probably go after her,” Eric says, high with insinuation to something else Daryl is unsure he wants to address.   
  
He grunts, “Saying all this shit ‘bout how she likes you more”   
  
Eric smiles and then instantly sighs, putting the back of his hand to his head dramatically, “I’m a really atrocious tracker and she’s already been gone so long —!“   
  
“Fine. Shut yer yap. Not sure I like what yer implying...” Daryl grumbles as he tosses the first aid kit back on his work bench.   
  
Eric gasps in horror, laid on a little too thick for Daryl not to glare at him. “Me? Imply what sort of things Daryl? I’d never want to upset you. I only want the best for you.” He smiles winningly.  
  
“Stay outta my business then,” Daryl’s tone is a shade too rough, but the roll of his eyes is all attitude and no clout.   
  
Eric grins as Daryl squeezes past him. He giggles himself silly leaning on the door jamb. Sighing dramatically, Eric smiles at Daryl’s retreating back. He shakes his head and sobers, coming face to face with a big blood smear on the opposite doorjamb. He jumps in shock, his hand on his heart again. He slumps against the doorway and mutters, “Jesus… We have such weird lives.”


	25. Chapter 25

The day came when they were ready. They’d scavenged all they needed for their plans and they weren’t about to go easy. Glenn and his team gathered up as many of the giant wheels they could find. Tara and Heath brought back trucks full of household chemicals. Carter and Reg had gathered scraps to reinforce the barriers. All of it was orchestrated according to their collective plans.  
  
On top of one side of the quarry, Rick, Michonne, Lupe, and Sasha set up their explosives and flammables. Glenn, Heath, Tara, and Morgan are on another with their chemicals. Abraham, Eugene, Daryl, and the construction crew had split, lining up to take their shot from the two other available edges.  
  
“I’m still not sure how I feel about that kinda book being so easily available.” Rick scoffs.  
  
He goes down the line, picking off bright red tops and laying them on the ground. Lupe follows, packing shiny metal holiday ornaments filled with water into the containers. She leaves the little tops undone, waiting for the right time.  
  
“Well, you were part of group of people that enforced unethical systems that provided you with heaps of protection from oppressive systemic violence,” she replies. He stares at her blankly. She rolls her eyes and snorts. “You were a cop, right? Of course you’d be upset. Anarchists go against the entire faulty system you were paid to uphold.” Rick gives her a slightly disappointed look, but from the talks he’s had with Michonne, he knows she’s right.  
  
The radio at Rick’s waist crackles softly and Daryl’s voice fills the air, “A’right so let’s rehash this shit before we git’goin.”  
  
Lupe and Rick both chuckle. Rick brings his radio up to his lips, smiling. “First we throw the tires, get as many of them as we can with pure force.”  
  
“Next goes the nail polish remover, aerosol cans, linseed oil, and the rest of the flammables,” Glenn responds.  
  
“Last is the creamer,” Abraham’s hearty voice rings over the radio.  
  
Michonne, Sasha, Rick and Lupe all grin at each other, looking out. Above the quarry, each side manned with their people, prepared for the ultimate gamble.  
  
Rick nods and asks, “How’s the containment looking Carter?”   
  
“Looks like it’s holding strong. Reg says it’s good and should be able to withstand what you’re planning,” Carter replies.  
  
“At least before we blow them all the hell,” Sasha snickers and elbows Lupe in the arm. Lupe smiles and sways with the nudge.  
  
“Alright…” Rick looks around his group and takes a deep breath. “Y’all ready?” Everyone nods. He exhales and raises his radio. “Check in and prepare to launch.”  
  
“Check, we’re ready,” Glenn responds.  
  
“Check, we’re set,” Daryl growls.  
  
“Check we’re ready to fuckin’ GO!” Abraham hoots. Everyone laughs and rolls their eyes with affection.  
  
Rick chuckles and raised the radio to his mouth. “Tires, ready.” He waits a good five seconds. “Drop in 3… 2… 1… Now!”  
  
Up on the North and South sides of the quarry there are two long semi trucks with flat beds. Along the top of the flatbeds are a line of thick tires, stacked side by side on their rolling axis with several lines of rope tying them firmly together. One piece of rope ties all the way through kept them in place, right on the ledge. When Rick shouts for them to be released, Abraham and Daryl both swing their axes, agents of chaos setting it free.  
  
It takes a second for the wheels to groan themselves over the edge of the metal flatbed. The wheels start rolling as a unit, slowly at first and a bit unsurely. Everyone is afraid they’ll sink right into the dirt and become useless, but as they continue, their motions even out and they pick up speed. No one expected what came next, but they sure as hell enjoyed it.  
  
The tires thunder through the gathered walkers like a combine, crushing bodies and kicking up bits of gore like gravel. When four to six hundred pounds of rubber meet together in the middle of the quarry they bang together like a wild Newton’s Cradle. The ropes snap. The force of them ramming into each other causes an explosion of circular shrapnel, tires flinging out in a starburst that takes out more walkers. A burst of wheels flies hard towards the path leading upwards and it hits like buckshot to a bees nest. The entire wall crumbles and the walkers and tires go with it in a flurry. The semi trucks roll down on top of any remaining writhing bodies. It is pandemonium, but almost everyone erupts into laughter and cheers.  
  
“Flammables, now!” Rick growls into the radio. The East and West sides of the quarry all gather and start chucking containers with loosened lids and aerosol cans out into the quarry. The flammables bounce off of bodies, hit rubber tires, or land in the gravel. Most of the tops start flinging off too, bringing with it liquids splashing all over.  
  
There’s ringing silence and Rick takes a deep breath. He looks back at Michonne and Sasha who have little tins in their hands, full of calcium carbide chips. He brings the radio to his lips, but nods to them first. They nod back and he speaks, “Set the creamer and go.”  
  
Michonne and Sasha each split the line of coffee creamer canisters coming in from either side to meet in the middle. They drop a couple pieces of calcium carbide in the water inside the ornaments, jam the tops shut with clay, and move onto the next. Rick follows Michonne and Lupe follows Sasha. They put on the red tops and tape them shut before chucking them as hard as they can into the quarry.  
  
A hail of red topped canisters goes sailing through the sky from each side like falling stars. Taped shut, they bounce around a little bit and settle. Silence fills the space again. They wait.  
  
Rick clears his throat. “Lupe…”  
  
“Give it a second,” she mutters, staring out into the pit littered with large rubber tires, bottles of varying colored liquids, and a few walkers still scrambling around helplessly.  
  
“Rick, should we throw the Molotov's?” Glenn’s voice asks.  
  
“Lupe,” Rick grunts, “How long —,”  
  
His words are interrupted by the first crack. Lupe smiles. “Right about…” she puts a single finger up, “…Now.”  
  
A consistent popping soars through the quarry, small, like firecrackers. The second after the popping starts, a soft FLOOM erupts and the coffee creamer ignites to a fireball the size of a barn. Once that single canister burst, the rest soon follow. Everyone stares in awe as the fireball continuously spread, like a miniature mushroom cloud. It expands over the area, lighting up the accelerants and creating a sea of flame and the burning dead.  
  
“FUCK YES!” Lupe roars, long and proud, punching a fist into the air.  
  
She suddenly hears the elated cheers of the Alexandrians. She smiles wide, staring out around the clearing and watching the groups erupt themselves, hugging each other and screeching in joy. Her eyes fill with tears and her smile is so big she thinks she’ll crack her face right in two. She turns back to see Michonne and Sasha already coming at her, both of them howling in excitement. She opens her arms with a shout and they slam right into her, all laughing and congratulating each other.  
  
Rick smiles as he watches the women all hug and cheer. He picks up his radio, “Reg, how’s it looking?”  
  
He could hear the laughter in his voice, “The barriers held pretty darn well considering that fireball and those tires!” A moment later he clicks back on, “I would say almost 90% destruction, but the fires still haven’t burned out. I don’t see any moving corpses down here, just flames!”  
  
Rick smiles and hears more cheers. Laughing to himself, he shakes his head and looks over at the women. They’re in a line on the edge of the cliff, looking down at the burning destruction they caused that would save so many lives. They have their arms around each other, shoulders or waists, leaning in and muttering about what they’d do now that the threat was eliminated. There is so much more to be done, but this provided a bit of a spark of hope, as it were.  
  
Some stay until the fires burn out, keeping an eye on the quarry. Others, like Lupe and Barbacoa, walk through the woods and take out walkers that were drawn by the ruckus. Rick has to admit that the explosion was much quieter than if they would have tried just about anything else. Lupe was right, it was easier to just try and hit the bullseye instead of moving it.  
  
The groups all pack up and move their cars to meet up on the main road. Rick stands atop the bed of his truck, looking down on every one smiling. He smiles back. “This was a great victory today and everyone deserves a thank you for their efforts. You all did amazing.” He nods to the group and then points directly at Lupe. “And I know she hates attention, but she’s gonna have to suck it up cause we’re gonna give her a little. Thank you Lupe. Your idea saved us a lot of lives. We owe you.”  
  
Lupe heats up like she was covered in acetone and set afire. She looks around wide eyed at all the people cheering her. Barbacoa runs circles at her feet, bouncing up and down. Her smile is small and tight. She’s thankful that they liked her idea, but she doesn’t need this. She nods and puts her head down, only now missing her hair because she used to use it to hide her face.  
  
“Alright everyone, lets pack up and get —,”  
  
Rick’s cut off by several gunshots and a long, drawn out blaring. The extended raging cry of a truck horn being seriously laid on. Everyone turns to the sound, bouncing out of the woods and around the quarry. They collectively hold their breaths.  
  
“That might be comin’ from home,” Morgan mutters, his voice melodic, but distressed.  
  
“Everyone! Go now!” Rick roars, jumping off of his truck and swinging down into the driver’s seat. Everyone scatters to their vehicles like roaches when the lights flick on. Dust and gravel spray up behind them as they tear ass to get back home where everyone is waiting on them.


	26. Chapter 26

When they arrive at Alexandria, the gates are open. They park their cars outside and grab their weapons. Rick designates over the radio that team captains stay the same and that one group would check the perimeter while the other three went inside to assess the problem. A big rig had crashed through the little chapel outside the perimeter and had rammed right into their wall. The rig’s horn still screams.  
  
“Carter and Reg we need that horn off now!” Rick growls into his radio as he, Michonne, Sasha, and Lupe hold a tight formation and start their trek through the community. The other groups target the insurgents while their group heads straight to find Rick’s children.  
  
As they stalk down the middle of the street, they pick off flailing assailants with Ws carved into their heads or drawn with blood. When they get closer to Rick’s house they see Carl, approaching a man, writhing on the ground. Enid stands on the porch and Ron is near Carl. The W on the ground lunges for Carl’s gun. Rick makes a strangled noise and starts sprinting. He doesn’t stop, even when Carl shoots the man in the head, ending the scuffle. Carl turns to talk to Ron, but the kid takes off. Carl shakes his head. He sees his dad and waves, but turns to get Enid back inside and safe.  
  
Michonne whips around on Sasha and Lupe. “Meet up with the others and take these people out.” Her tone is decisive and sharp. She’s furious, eyes alight with a tormented fire. “We’re going to check on the kids and we’ll come back out to help.”  
  
Sasha and Lupe look at each other, then back at Michonne. All three nod and disperse from the group. Sasha and Lupe could travel together, but there is quite a lot of ground to cover and a lot of people are already dying. They sprint off in opposite directions to see if they can each level the field. Lupe has Barbacoa at her side, bounding next to her and snarling. They turn a corner and a man wielding a huge hand scythe charges in their direction.  
  
Barbacoa doesn’t even hesitate. She jumps on the man and rips out his throat in one swift movement that has him landing on the grass with a thud and a spurt of blood. Lupe walks by and stabs the choking man through the eye with her baton. Barbacoa shakes her head down to her tail, flicking off the gore. Lupe looks around, squinting. She stares at the body and is bothered. It’s foolish to attack a guarded place like Alexandria with only melee weapons.  
  
Frowning she’s about to reach down to the corpse when another one with a red W on their forehead comes careening around the edge of the house. Lupe stares at the person, covered from nearly head to toe, with a hood and bandana covering their face. Barbacoa lunges and runs for them, snarling wretchedly and getting ready for the kill. Lupe glares at them, but their bright eyes go wide and they reach up a thin hand, holding a gun, but it isn’t pointed at Lupe. They’re showing it to her.  
  
“¡Para!” Lupe shouts, but Barbacoa is already sliding to a stop just a foot or so in front of the W, stretching out her nose and sniffing. Her tail starts to wag. They pull down the bandana and Lupe’s eyes go wide. “¿!Que chingadas?! Carol!? You scared the shit out of us!” Barbacoa dances around Carol as she runs towards Lupe, pulling up her bandana and looking around. “What’s happening? Can I help you?”  
  
Carol nods as she approaches. “They tried to ram the gate, but Rosita shot the driver. Some scaled the walls and got the gates open from the inside so others could rush in.” She looks down at the corpse and back at Lupe, “None of them have firearms, I think —,”  
  
“Guns, yeah.” Lupe nods and Carol’s eyes shoot to her, wide and observant. “I noticed only melee weapons.”  
  
Carol nods, pointing to the body. “Put on his clothes and come with me.” Lupe does as she’s told.  
  
They start running around, with Barbacoa trailing them as they sprint through the streets. Lupe hides her rifle under her new jacket, only popping it out to fire off a bullet into insurgents. Carol has a knife and a pistol, she occasionally splits off down alleys and punctures the skulls of Ws too consumed in their grisly murders.  
  
Lupe turns the corner at the end of the street. Morgan is going up against a yeti with an axe. She shoulders her rifle fast, but Carol swoops in faster from behind a house, running like she’s going to flank Morgan. She stabs the yeti in the chest and he folds to the ground. Morgan stands there, gobsmacked until Carol pulls down her mask.  
  
Morgan, looking even more shocked, steps forward, “I could have stopped him.”  
  
Lupe runs to Carol’s back and starts spotting for them. Carol ignores him. “So everyone is back?”  
  
Morgan gives her a tense eyed look. “Yes. We just finished with the quarry when we heard the horn.”  
  
“Good, it’ll be over soon then,” Carol snarls. Looking back at Lupe she says, “Get over here.” Lupe turns and Carol pulls her down, drawing a red W across her forehead. She looks back at Morgan before starting to take the chains off the body. “They don’t have guns.”  
  
“I coulda stopped him,” Morgan reiterates.  
  
“If they had guns they’d be using them,” Carol mutters, ignoring him again.  
  
“Did you hear me?” Morgan says, more insistent.  
  
Lupe turns around and snarls, “We did stop him, Morgan.”  
  
That freezes everyone up for second, but Carol, true to rights, keeps her head. “We have to get to the armory before they do.” Her voice is almost pleading if she didn’t need to be so cold. “We need to keep moving. That’s how we make this work.”  
  
“You don’t have to kill people,” Morgan insists, almost begging them.  
  
Lupe and Carol look at him like he’s sprouted an extra head.  
  
Carol condescends, “Of course we do…” She goes back to stripping the body.  
  
Morgan leans forward. “You don’t like it…” His voice is pleading to Carol, he’s staring at her beseechingly. Carol freezes, looking up at him with teary eyes.  
  
Lupe whips around and charges at Morgan, ripping down her mask. “No one likes it!” she bellows. “No one decent, Morgan!” He stares at her, breathing heavily and she returns the incensed stare. “That’s not news, okay? You don’t have to kill, but don’t bullshit everyone else. That’s your choice,” she snarls and looks him up and down, “not ours.” She reaches down for Carol and helps her up, chain in hand. “We get to the armory. We can stop them.”  
  
“Come with us,” Carol says to Morgan, some annoyance audible. “We could use your help.”  
  
Morgan stares at the two of them, eyes flitting back and forth before he nods. He holds out his hands, nodding towards the chain. “Make it look like you caught me and the dog.” The women nod and hook the two of them up.  
  
They begin walking down the street together, the dog and Morgan behind them. Morgan’s doing his best to appear displeased as he stumbles along. It isn’t hard, Carol has his walking staff and it makes him uneasy to be without it. He looks over to the dog who’s trotting next to him like she’s on a walk at the park. His cheek twitches with a small smile.  
  
Two Ws come running past Carol and Lupe as they lead their fake prisoners down the street.    
  
“Nice catch Aphid!”  
  
“Whoa, is that a fucking dog Grinder? Dinner is gonna be great tonight!”  
  
They move right past Carol and Lupe. As Lupe turns, shouldering her rifle, she looks at Carol who raises her gun. “You don’t have to do this if he got to you.” Carol freezes with tears still in her eyes. Lupe aims at the running Ws and fires off two soft pops, hitting them both in the back of the head.  
  
Lupe tucks her rifle back into her jacket and looks at Morgan. “I know you know this Morgan.” She eyes him carefully. “I know you do.” Her eyes meet his and he is shocked by the unshed tears in them. Her voice is soft, “Some people, like these relentless murderers,” she points as Carol rushes off to an alley to stab another W who’s hitting a body with an axe for probably the fiftieth time, “they don’t deserve to share this world with us. They’re lost.” She insists, “Some people don’t deserve to live.”  
  
Morgan shakes his head hard, his voice cracking, “Not everyone is lost! All life is precious.”  
  
Lupe looks at him with sad sympathetic eyes. She nods with a quivering chin. “Life is precious, but this isn’t life anymore.” She shakes her head. “You do you Morgan. You don’t have to kill a soul. But don’t expect it from everyone else. Don’t ask me not to stop these people once and for all. They made their choice.” She points at the body of one of the Alexandrians, stripped almost bare, sliced everywhere, even on her genitals. Lupe walks right up to him, her face inches away, and she hisses, tight with restraint, “Some people don’t deserve redemption.”  
  
Carol returns and picks up Morgan’s chain. They run along until they’re only a few yards away from the armory. Morgan yanks back to stop them and both Lupe and Carol pause to look in the direction he’s staring. Father Gabriel gets tackled by one of the Ws.  
  
“Leave him,” Carol says, her tone burning with rage. Lupe can feel the betrayal coming off of her in waves and is inclined to agree. If someone can piss Carol off that much, they might just deserve to die.  
  
“No,” Morgan grunts and unravels the chains around his wrist. He grabs his staff and sprints off.

  
Carol shakes her head and mutters through a tight throat, “Let’s go.” She takes off towards the armory with Lupe and Barbacoa at her heels.  
  
Two more Ws come out of a house, laden with a whole bunch of crap. They waddle towards Carol, smiling. The woman speaks, “Hey Aphid! Where’d you get the gun?”  
  
Carol’s answer is a bullet in her chest and one in her partner’s head. They both bypass the bodies, only halting when a woman comes screaming from a door with a W chasing her, a machete in his hand. Lupe pops off a fast shot and the man crumbles down the steps but is not dead. Another W woman comes out behind him screeching. Carol’s gun clicks on empty and Lupe’s does the same. Lupe tackles the woman who charges Carol, allowing Carol to slip down the stairs.  
  
The woman with the W climbs on top of Lupe while the shot W limps after Carol holding his shoulder. The W on top of Lupe smiles, “I’ll free you. I’m your savior.”  
  
A distinct chill runs through Lupe and the woman pulls out a knife before she can properly respond.  
  
Luckily, Barbacoa comes thundering through and tackles the woman by the face, slamming her head into he concrete behind her. Lupe whirls to a sitting position, huffing hard as Barbacoa comes trotting back to lick at her cheeks. Lupe nods into the affection and pats the dog as she whines. Lupe wobbles to her feet and charges into the armory, just as a man tries to come sprinting out. Lupe steps out of the way as he runs. Carol fires several shots into his back and stumbles onto the ground. Barbacoa jumps on top of him and chomps hard on the thin column of bones in his neck.  
  
Lupe walks in as Carol speaks to Olivia and gathers guns. Lupe grabs a bag for herself and another rifle to sling beneath her jacket. Carol’s muttering to Olivia about how to shoot before she turns around and jerks her head to the side for Lupe to follow. As they close the door Carol looks at Olivia and says, “One of them comes through this door, you squeeze the trigger and you don’t stop until they’re on the floor.” Olivia nods.  
  
Lupe grins at her. “You can do this, you’re brave.” Olivia sniffles a lot but smiles, holding the gun up steady as they shut her in. Carol tugs on Lupe and they sprint out the back.  
  
Morgan is in the street with Gabriel, a W on the ground pontificating about saving them as he gets tied up. Lupe walks up and raises her gun, shotting the man in the head. Carol stands next to her and hands a gun to Gabriel and Morgan without a word. Carol runs off, but Lupe stays. Morgan grits his teeth hard. He looks at her fleetingly then hands his gun to Gabriel.  
  
Gabriel shudders like a shaken chihuahua with the guns in his open palms, balancing them like they’re live lobsters. “I’m not good with guns…”  
  
Morgan blinks a scowl in Lupe’s direction. “Me neither…” He stalks off without another word.  
  
Gabriel stares at Lupe, eyes and mouth open, “I’m —,”  
  
“Hide.” Lupe looks at him, her face cold and impassive. “Go hide and shoot any of the Ws you see.” She starts off in Morgan’s direction.  
  
“I don’t want to —,”  
  
She whips around on him. “There are children here! People are getting raped and slaughtered in the streets!” she spits, her eyes alight. “Haven’t you noticed? God doesn’t give a shit anymore! We’re the only ones here,” she snarls. “Protect your fucking flock!” She turns and stalks away before starting to jog after Morgan with Barbacoa on her tail.  
  
Lupe skids to a stop and hid behind some solar panels, watching Morgan fighting off the Ws. He tries to tell them to leave, scare them off, give them a chance. They keep fighting. Morgan however, is magic with that staff. Lupe can’t exactly blame him for his outlook. She doesn’t like to kill, but she does it. She used to do it for her sister, now she’s doing it for everyone else in this community. Some people don’t deserve to live.  
  
Morgan gets them running, but one of the men picks up a gun before reeling off. Morgan chases them to the gates, but they slip through. Morgan closes it behind the Ws. His head presses into the metal. He shakes something loose and then sprints off towards the community.  
  
Lupe goes straight to the gate and opens it back up. The Ws are sprinting right down the middle of the road. Barbacoa whines at her side, licking her jowls as she wiggles, looking out at possible things to chase. Lupe chuckles, but shoulders her rifle and fires off four silenced shots. She slams the gate shut, locks it, and walks away.  
  
The entire community seems to be in shambles. Everyone is shaken and scared. Corpses litter the streets, enemies mixed with friends and family. The untouchable community was finally sullied by the outside world they tried so hard to deny. However, it seemed that most, if not all of the Ws were taken out. There are no more screams. No more sounds of metal squelching into flesh. No more streets, deluged with blood. Only the remnants of a massacre stopped short.  
  
As Lupe stumbles back in the direction of her home, she contemplates swinging by Aaron and Eric’s. Not only to check up on them, but to see if Daryl is there too. She hasn’t seen him at all since they arrived. Her body shambles to a stop in front of Carol’s house though.  
  
Carol stares across the street at a corpse of one of the Alexandrians. She has a pack of cigarettes in her shaking hands and her eyes are red rimmed. She puts her face in her palms and then suddenly starts rubbing furiously at the W on her head.  
  
Lupe limps forward and takes Carol’s hands delicately. She jumps, dropping the cigarettes and shaking in Lupe’s grasp. Her breath is a whisper out her quivering lips and her eyes are laser focused on Lupe.  
  
“I got you,” Lupe says softly. She untucks her canteen and pulls the cloth mask off her neck. She spills clean water all over it and wipes at Carol’s twitching face. “I got you Carol. It’s okay to feel this way.”  
  
Carol quivers in her grasp, tears streaming down her cheeks and being wiped away, unmentioned by Lupe. There’s a tenderness on Lupe’s features she didn’t often show and Carol knows why. She does it for the same reason. Caring is an awful lot like signing up for disaster. Carol cares so much, she thinks she might burst.  
  
“You aren’t weak,” Lupe says. “You aren’t weak for hating it, but doing it anyway.” She still wipes away at Carol’s face even though the blood is gone. “You aren’t weak for doing it and feeling good about it either.” She moves to Carol’s hands and takes extensive time cleaning her shaking fingers. “You can still hate it and know it was the right thing.” Lupe finally looks at her. “There’s nothing wrong with you for caring so much you’d kill. Not one bit. These Ws? We didn’t search them out. They did this precisely because they don’t care. You stopped them. You did the right thing.”  
  
Carol’s face folds in sorrow. A silent sob heaves out of her chest. Lupe’s arms wrap around her instantly. Carol is robbed for a moment. She doesn’t know what to do with the compassion pouring off Lupe.  
  
“A really smart woman once told me that I never had to be okay with the things I needed to do to survive,” Lupe mutters as Carol curls into her.  
  
Lupe swoops up the box of cigarettes, and one handed, pops two out by patting the pack on her knee. She places them into her mouth and reaches for the lighter inside the pack.  
  
She speaks around the filters, “She said if it only mattered that I survived for just one more sunrise, then that was okay.” She shrugs and lights up the cigarettes in a single huge inhale. “Reality was always bull shit.” She exhales. “There was always monsters. It’s hard to see the good we can do when we’re all so sunk in the awfulness of this dismal fucking nightmare.”  
  
Lupe hands a cigarette to Carol and she takes it in her shaking, but clean, grasp.  
  
Lupe sighs and puts her cigarette back in her mouth. “We gotta survive,” she mutters. Her throat tightens with grief thinking back on those people she abandoned. “We gotta take care of each other or it’s not worth it.” Carol leans up against her more, getting comfortable as they smoke. “Some people are not out there really caring about others. They hurt people cause they like it. They hurt people because they want power or sex or currency — its all the fucking same.”  
  
Lupe takes a long drag as Barbacoa slowly approaches the porch. “They make their choices and we should see them for exactly who they are.” Lupe says as the dog cuddles up next to Carol and puts her giant head in the woman’s lap. Lupe exhales smoke and watches it drift away. “Some people don’t deserve to live…” Her eyes stray down to Carol’s hand, gently petting Barbacoa’s torn ear. “But we do.” Lupe smiles, tired, but alive.


	27. Chapter 27

Daryl and Rick are on their way back from an almost average run. Everything went disastrously and that’s why it was pretty average. Daryl sits in the back seat, steaming over the entire day. Things had been hard at Alexandria since after the Ws attack. People were scared. People were hurting bad. They lost lives and that damn truck horn drew a bunch of walkers. They didn’t get overrun, but the woods were full now. The walls were still relatively secure, except for where the truck hit. Morale was shit, though. It was why Rick and Daryl were hoping for a good score. But it all went to hell. All because of some asshole in leather.   
  
Daryl swallows heavily, looking down at his own vest and chewing his lip. He can’t stop thinking about the day Lupe beat the hell out of Pete. He’s stuck on what she said and what he told her. He’d never told a soul about that aside from Merle, and that was basically an accident. Daryl thought about the horrible stuff that made him sick to his stomach so he could stop thinking about touching her skin. He’d never felt something so alive at his fingertips. She talked a ton of shit about herself, but he didn’t know people could be like her, broken, but so soft and good. The Pete situation still hadn’t really been addressed. Daryl doesn’t really care about it. He just knows he can’t let them kick her out. Pete deserved what he got, he deserves worse for putting his hands on his family. Don’t matter if it’s a spank or a punch, no one hits the people they love.  
  
The car suddenly jolts and Daryl gets smushed against the window and out of his thoughts. He looks over at his side and that Jesus guy is limply leaning his head on Daryl’s shoulder, still unconscious. Daryl bucks his arm and he flops back over to his seat. Daryl looks up at Rick with a nice solid glare.  
  
“He took a pretty hard hit,” Rick says, not hiding his playful little grin in the rearview mirror. “We should get Denise to take a look at him.” Rick coasts as usual, always cheerful behind an empty road and a wheel. Some people just like to move.  
  
“Yeah,” Daryl says gruffly even though he doesn’t believe it. Rick made a choice and Daryl is sure it’s the wrong one. The leather wearing asshole causes a chill to creep along his skin. They’re the opposites on the same spectrum. Daryl’s hard, gruff, and dirty. Jesus is civil looking, well spoken, and clean cut. Both of them wear leather and kick some ass. If the guy had shorter, slightly darker, or maybe just dirtier hair, and a sparser beard, he could pass for Daryl’s brother. Daryl doesn’t like the implications of someone in leather that almost looks like him, dresses like him. He can’t deny he’s terrified he just let Rick bring Lupe’s tormenter right to her front step.   
  
“You wouldn’t’ve left him,” Rick drawls. “You wouldn’t have.”  
  
“Sure as shit would have,” Daryl growls. “Right up a damn tree.”  
  
“Nah,” Rick almost smiles, “I know and you know. We walked into Alexandria and I was ready to burn it down. You saw the potential. You saw that we might be able to grow and find peace. You thought we could do it together, with others too. You knew.”  
  
“It’s bullshit man,” Daryl gripes, fingers picking at his chapped lips. “We keep finding people and they keep laying death at our door.”  
  
“Lupe didn’t.” Rick stares pointedly at Daryl in the mirror.  
  
“She’s different,” Daryl grumbles, shifting in his seat and uncomfortable with the way Rick’s staring at him. He’s damn lucky there’s no cars on the road. Daryl glares at Rick fleetingly. “What?”  
  
Rick is doing that pursed lip grin he gets when he’s really amused. “Different? How? You heard how many people she’s killed,” he asks far too innocently.  
  
Daryl huffs. “And how many have we, huh? You ever stop to try and take count of corpses we’ve left behind?”   
  
Rick nods slowly, conceding the point. “I’m just saying the time is right for all of us to make some changes. I should have listened to you, Michonne, Glenn, Maggie… I should have paid more attention to what was around me before it was lost. I should have been more willing to accept what was in front of me even though it scared me.” He’s looking at Daryl again. “Maybe its time for all of us to just try something… different.”  
  
Daryl glares at Rick. Still unsure of the insinuation or possibly just stubborn. His entire body tingles for a hot second because he’s embarrassed and he’s not completely sure why. Hit dogs will holler, but he’s trying his best to sit still and just not think about it. He can’t think about it. He can’t think about her, not like that. She’d been through too much and he’s just tainted down to his bones. There’s too much going on. If they can’t get better stores for the winter after what the Ws either stole or destroyed, it could be slim enough that some people don’t make it. Daryl looks out the window, picking at his lips.  
  
Rick swerves the car again, plopping Jesus’ head right into the bone of Daryl’s shoulder. Daryl shrugs Jesus hard and he plops all the way on the other side, sliding his cheek down the window. Daryl looks up at Rick with some indignant confusion and Rick gives him a tight, mischievous smile.  
  
“We should all be ready for what’s coming, what’s different.” Rick adds, “It’ll be the future.” Daryl shakes his head and stares out the window again. Thinking about the trees and the woman he found, running around like she was their Queen.  
  
The rest of the car ride is full of an uneasy silence. Both Rick and Daryl have their heads too full of what might be to talk about what is. They pull up to Alexandria and Daryl feels the jitters in his body start to buzz. He looks over at the leather wearing asshole and is too unsure about having him around Lupe. Around any of his family. Daryl doesn’t even care if he might be wrong. He’d go out into the forest himself to shoot every single leather wearing asshole in the face to make sure she’s safe from whatever haunted her.  
  
Daryl’s voice is gravely and he’s glad it can hide his nerves, “Back after Pete almost killed someone, before the whole quarry thing, you said we shouldn’t be bringing more people in.”   
  
Daryl thinks about himself, about how Lupe is so terrified of him she can barely sit still in his presence. He thinks about his motorcycle driving her to panic. He thinks about the swing of that wrench being so fucking sure until she saw it was Eric and pulled her strike. She would have killed Eric otherwise. But she didn’t. She stopped. She didn’t hurt people. Not ones who didn’t deserve it. Daryl is just unsure what he deserved, but he knows it isn’t her.   
  
“You were right,” Daryl grumbles, bitterness burning in his chest.  
  
Rick shakes his head as he slows to a stop at the gate and flashes his lights. They’re path is protected by a barricade of cars and spikes. Thanks to Morgan’s ingenuity, it keeps the stray walkers away from the front gate. “Even about Lupe?”  
  
Daryl shakes his head hard. “‘Specially her!” he snarls, but his voice creaks with the emotions trying to burrow a home in his chest. He pushes them back again and his voice is hard, “She woulda been safer if she kept going. Happier.”  
  
Rick turns in his seat to stare down Daryl for the entire time the gate squeals open. His eyes flash in that deathly serious way, where everyone knows a terrifying truth is waiting. “Daryl…” he starts.  
  
Daryl feels like he’s a kid again, but getting chastised by a nice teacher who just expected more of him.  
  
Rick doesn’t even blink. “That is the worst lie you’ve ever told.” He turns sharply and plops back into his seat. He makes his way through Alexandria while Daryl steams like the shit he’s being in the back seat. They drive up as far as they can to the infirmary and carry the dead weight of Jesus like Romans getting ready to toss him in the tomb. Rick knocks on Denise’s door and she comes to open it with Tara, both recently risen from sleep.  
  
“Hi,” Denise drawls, and already quips, “Uh, who’s that?”  
  
Rick’s cheek twitches with a smile. “Sorry it’s so late, but he hit his head and we need you to check him out.”  
  
Denise nods. “Ohhhhkay,” she exhales and opens her door wider, with Tara hanging on her side and they step out of the way. “put him on the bed,” her tone is a might bit resigned.  
  
“Sorry,” Daryl mutters as they squeeze through the door, “didn’t get what you asked of me.” He hefts Jesus, adjusting his hold. “This heavy asshole ruined it.”  
  
Both Tara and Denise grin, for different reasons, as they get Jesus situated. “Don’t worry, I appreciate you looking. Sorry it got ruined.” Denise winks at Daryl.  
  
“It’s alright,” Rick mutters, standing over Jesus. Denise starts her inspection.  
  
Daryl walks his way over to Tara who leans on the doorjamb and watches Denise with a sweet smile on her face, trying to look reserved. His cheek quirks and he’s happy the two of them finally fell into each other’s orbit and quit with the blushing shit. He nods to Tara and she adjusts, trying not to look so soppy.   
  
Daryl teases her anyway. “Ya got stars in your eyes over here.”  
  
Tara chuckles into her hand. “Yeah, maybe. Better than just my bangs constantly poking me in the face,” she quips right back.  
  
Daryl huffs and leans opposite her. “Don’t you worry none about my face, it’s fine.”  
  
Tara sniffs at him, amused. “So what’s with this guy?”  
  
Daryl shrugs. “Could have been lies up until this point. Not sure. Calls himself Jesus.”  
  
“Oh goodie, a man with a god complex… How new and refreshing!” Tara says in a parody of a Disney princess voice.  
  
Daryl snorts. “Seems like we ain’t ever been short on them.” Tara chuckles. He chews on his lip for a second and glances over at her. She’s not looking at him, still watching Denise work, who, he has to admit, is very good at what she does. He clears his throat too loud and it makes Tara jump. He cringes. “M’sorry. Just wonderin’ if you’d seen Lupe around today?”  
  
Tara turns on him slowly, not showing a thing on her face as she nods. “She helped with the wall a bit, but she was really terrible at it.” Tara chuckles. “Like, I know she can kill a man thirteen different ways, but she couldn’t hit a nail on its head even if you paid her.” They both share a little laugh at her expense. Lupe has many talents, but no one can do everything. “She went out hunting after a while. I think she needed an excuse to go kill stuff, she was so annoyed.” Tara smiles wide. “She did bring back some meat though. Said Barbie got a bunch of squirrels with her weird tree climbing thing.”  
  
“Barbie?” Daryl scrunches his face in confusion.  
  
Tara laughs softly. “Barbacoa. Enid gave her the nickname. You could see Lupe self destruct inside of her head the first time Enid said it, but Lupe allowed it… Cause it’s Enid.”  
  
“Cause it’s Enid,” he agrees. Her and Carl are spoiled by a whole damn town. With Judith, it’s worse. Daryl shakes a soft smile onto his face. “That dog is somethin’ else.”  
  
“Owner isn’t bad either.” Tara smiles deliberately at Daryl. Daryl looks at her and practically curls up like a hermit crab and she knows she hit some sort of sore spot. She decides to push it a little. “I mean heck, if I didn’t find Denise, I would have tried with her. She’s beautiful and sweet and strong.” She sighs and looks over at Daryl who can’t stop fidgeting. Tara purses her lips to hold in a laugh. Once she composes herself she tries again, “I mean I’m sure now that she’s getting to know everyone, someone is bound to snap her right up.”   
  
She looks at Daryl and he’s suddenly still and she knows she hit the jackpot. “I mean Abraham is single now. Spencer and Rosita aren’t exactly serious and I’ve seen Spencer —,” she pauses to laugh “— and Rosita, checking Lupe out too. I mean… did you see her pushing those tires around with Glenn after we collected them? She’s got thighs that could crush a person’s head.” Tara is pushing hard on nonchalance and Daryl is still frozen. She tries to bite back her laughter so she can finish strong. “But shit, what a way to go.”  
  
Daryl is glaring at the floor and Tara is doing her best not to laugh at him. She knows how hard it is to step past the fear and jump into the hope of having a future with someone. She’s not sure Daryl even really knows what he’s thinking or doing when it comes to Lupe. Tara can see the two get along, even if the process of them getting to know each other was really hard on them. Lupe was sweet and patient. She listened to Daryl in a way that made him wanna talk — which was in and of itself, a shock. She somehow spoke on his same wavelength. They shared a mutual understanding of hope and loss. Daryl had been careful. He’d been kind. He’d done things Tara had never seen him do for anyone else. He took off that damn vest for her.  
  
Rick strolls up to Daryl. “Let’s put him in the cell.” He nods and then wipes a hand down his face. “Then let’s get some damn rest.”  
  
Daryl nods, not even looking at Tara as he walks by her. Everything she said was spinning in his head, making him practically unable to speak. He follows Rick like a shadow and they get the heavy man out of the infirmary and wish the two women good night. They plop Jesus in his cell, still tied, left him some water, and a note for him to see when he wakes up. It says they won’t hurt him, but will want to talk.  
  
After all that Daryl starts strolling over to Eric and Aaron’s house. He kind of pops around a lot. Sleeping wherever someone will let him. Rick’s house is one, but he doesn’t like to disrupt their family time. Carol’s house is another he feels safe enough to rest in, but he’s not ready for rest. His mind is burning and he can’t make it stop. He decided to work on his bike until he couldn’t lift his arms.  
  
From the darkness on Aaron and Eric’s porch he looks over and sees light coming from her house. Like a moth drawn, his feet carry him over and he sees her on the porch, surrounded by candles. They’re the ones carried in grocery stores that are tall and have religious shit on them. Except the pictures aren’t actual saints, just made to look like them. There’s musicians, like Janelle Monae, philosophers, like Bell Hooks, muppets, like Kermit and Animal, and famous actors, like Carrie Fisher and Leonard Nimoy. He remembers seeing her grabbing them piecemeal during runs, but never cared much. He cared very much about those candles now. Especially how they glowed a light so perfect around her it made him breathless.  
  
Lupe sits on the swing with one foot down, gently swaying and reading away. She doesn’t notice Daryl in the darkness of the street. He moves, uncontrollably walking forward like a thirsting man in the dessert towards a mirage. When he gets close enough, Barbacoa’s head pops up. She scrambles off the porch to come see him.  
  
Lupe peers around her book to watch Barbacoa with a frown. When she notices the dog skitter to stop at Daryl’s feet, she can’t help but smile when he gets down on a knee to pet her. She puts her book down and wraps up in her blanket, like it was a Royal Robe. Walking down the steps, her feet bare as she steps into the street, she meets Daryl as he stands.  
  
“Hey…” Lupe smiles wide as Barbacoa weaves between their legs, just a couple feet apart.  
  
Daryl’s lip quirks slightly, he can barely look at her, back lit by the soft glow of candles. She looks like an angel. He shakes his head. “Hey…”  
  
“How was the run?” she asks.  
  
Daryl shrugs. “Went south,” he mutters. He’s unsure he wants to tell her about a man in head to toe leather with martial arts skills who tried to kill them and steal supplies today.  
  
She frowns deeply, looking him up and down. “You okay?”  
  
His thumb goes automatically to his mouth so he can gnaw on his nail. He gives a hesitant series of nods. She sighs, closing her eyes like it’s the biggest relief she could get. He doesn’t want to watch her care for him like this. It makes him burn even worse. “Found some stuff, but some guy tried to steal it. Supplies ended up in a lake cause of him.”  
  
“Shit, that’s low,” she mutters. Looking up at Daryl her face softens. “I’m really glad you’re okay.” Her smile sort of wiggles on her face and he can see her teasing come from a mile away. “You two said you should be home by dinner. I was worried.”  
  
“Worried? Why?” Daryl replies, almost too harshly.  
  
Her smile reforms only halfway. She looks around and she gets a little bashful, wrapping the blanket around her tighter. “I want you safe?” She shrugs unevenly and has a difficult time looking at him.  
  
Lupe risks it, and he’s still gnawing. Her eyes meet his for just a second and he looks away like he’s been caught. She sighs hard. “I’m…” She huffs. “I want to believe in you, these people, and this place. I’m trying… To stay. To care.” The smile creeps back onto her face, wider. “To settle in maybe?” For the first time in her life she is actually wishing someone would look at her. “To help make a future.” She huffs a little sadly because he’s still so agitated. “To have something different.”  
  
His arm drops from his mouth and she watches him go through that momental reboot where he’s thinking something big. He’s staring at her now. It’s deep and rooting. She wishes to undo her other wish. She doesn’t know if he can see past everything and get right to her mushy, weak insides, but she hopes he knows she’s being honest.   
  
“That’s good,” he finally mutters, nodding a few times as he chews on his lip.  
  
Lupe nods too and then checks him up and down fully. He looks drawn and tired. “Hey, you want to come in? I could fix you something to eat and get you some water.” She knows it’s a gamble, probably too big of one. She also knows Daryl is a really nice person and deserved to be doted on for all he did for the community.  
  
Daryl’s staring at her like a dear in a headlights. He’d been in her home a time or two, but it was usually in a small group, like they were getting ready for a run or trying to move something. He wants nothing more than to join her inside that house. To have some more time with her, alone, during the night, where it seems like peace is the only option. For some reason, this woman standing in front of him, burns something new in him he doesn’t really understand.  
  
“Nah,” he says instead of listening to what’s trying to rip through his chest. “Thanks though, I gotta check in with Aaron and Eric.” His mouth tastes like death after the words come out. He thinks his heart might have stopped as he watches the disappointment — not in him, but herself — lace onto her face as she curls under the blanket more.   
  
He shakes his head at her. “Don’t look like that…” His voice speaks for him, even though he wants it to stop. He can’t have what he wants. Everything always went wrong and he didn’t want her caught in the revolving curse that was his life. “I just…” he mutters and she’s trying to look at him, but she is just weeping an invisible shame. “It ain’t about you, a’right?” he spits, but he isn’t sure what he means. “You’re…you deserve…” he chokes a little bit on the words.   
  
“I ain’t worth nothing.” He turns to walk away.   
  
Her whisper carries through the silence of the sleeping community, “You’re worth something…”   
  
Daryl almost stops, but he can’t let himself. He has to dig his feet into the ground to keep moving. If he turns around, it’ll set him on a path that means her destruction. He has to keep moving. There isn’t anything worse to Daryl than the prospect of seeing her hurt. He can't let it happen. He definitely won't let himself be the cudgel.  
  
“To me…”


	28. Chapter 28

Daryl’s on Eric and Aaron’s porch when he wakes up to the sound of running feet. He’s up on his in an instant and sees Maggie, Glen, and Abraham running his way.  
  
“What’s happening?” he asks, voice more deep and gravelly from sleep.  
  
“Prisoner’s escaped,” Glenn replies. “We’re gonna start searching houses.”  
  
Daryl jumps off the porch and takes the extra gun Abraham hands him. It’s an effort not to feel bitter towards the robust man. All of Tara’s yapping got his head mixed up in a whirlwind and his dreams don’t help. “We should get to Rick’s.”  
  
“He could be going anywhere, trying to find hostages or our resources —,”  
  
Daryl spins away from Maggie’s words and stares in the direction of Lupe’s house. His heart thrums in his chest.  
  
“Daryl?” Abraham asks.  
  
Daryl snaps back to them, his breath huffing suddenly. “Maggie’s right. We don’t know where he could be.” He stares around the available expanse of his community and growls, “You go to Rick’s to be sure, I’ll hunt him down.” He cocks his gun. The others nod, a little unsurely, but agree and charge off to Rick’s house in the opposite direction as he goes off, alone.  
  
Daryl knows he should head back to the cell, start his tracking there, but he can’t stop himself from making sure she’s okay first. He’s not risking this leather clad asshole being that leather clad asshole. He gets to a sprint before he hears a dog barking viciously.  
  
Daryl bursts through her back gate with the gun raised, ready to put a bullet in that Jesus asshole’s face. A rage builds in him that he cannot compete with. It clouds his thoughts as he sprints around the corner and gets ready to squeeze the trigger.  
  
“You come into my house!?” he hears Lupe scream.  
  
He’s around the corner and he can finally breathe again. She’s standing over Jesus who is on his back. Her foot is on his chest while Barbacoa is snarling mere inches from his face. Jesus looks rightfully petrified as she stands over him, in nothing but a slim tank top and some polka dot briefs.  
  
Daryl takes her in, mostly looking for wounds and because he’s just relieved. A new rage lights hot and fast within him when he sees her other scars. Permanent welts in thin stripes litter the back of her legs. He recognizes those marks cause he has some from a belt, more than twenty years old. He notices more scars peeking from the racer back tank, right on her shoulder blades, and they look like burns.  
  
Lupe’s shout shocks him back to attention, “You take my cookies!? That Carol made specifically for me!?” She grinds her heel in Jesus’ chest and he bows with the movement, a grimace twisting on his face.  
  
“I — I just wanted to talk to Rick,” he mutters, hands up and surrendering.  
  
Lupe doesn’t look like she’ll accept such a thing. She leans closer and yells at him, “Do I look like a ‘Rick’ to you, mother fucker?” He shakes his head and she scowls at him hard. “¡ Pinche culo plano !” She stomps her foot on his chest and he lets out a coughing gasp.  
  
“Lupe…” Daryl finally speaks and the relief is obvious in his tone.  
  
Barbacoa stops for a second, perking up her head and wagging her tail, but she does not move from her spot, close enough to kill. Lupe turns, taking her foot off Jesus to stabilize herself. Looking slightly murderous, she recognizes Daryl in her haze. “This your prisoner?” Daryl nods. Lupe’s mouth twists into an angry line. “Well, he fucking escaped.”  
  
A sudden yelp sounds and Lupe turns to see Barbacoa, folding away from the strike laid on her shoulder. The dog is not daunted though. Her snarls reinvigorate as she grabs the hand that struck her by the leather covered wrist and yanks, hard. Barbacoa shakes her head furiously with her catch. There’s an audible pop and Jesus yells in pain.  
  
But Lupe is on another level of pissed. “YOU HIT MY DOG!? ¡ PEDAZO DE PINCHE MIERDA! ¡TE VOY A MATAR!” She lunges at Jesus while his arm is still being shaken by the dog and she kicks him right in the head. “¡VOY A COMER TU CARA, PENDEJO!”  
  
Lupe goes to stomp Jesus again, but Daryl grabs her, pulling her away. He’s got his arms around her. She feels solid in them, not like the nightmares he has where she slips away, drowned in shadows. He’s so glad she’s okay, he can’t help but hold her tighter. She’s still thrashing a bit, screaming profanities in two languages. Jesus writhes on the ground, one hand trying to hold onto the arm Barbacoa refuses to let go of.  
  
“¡Cago en tu madre!” she spits from Daryl’s arms. He thinks she’s calming down, but her voice goes hard and she growls, “Barbacoa, mantelo!”  
  
The dog yanks the arm one more time and Jesus lets out a wail. Barbacoa bolts while he’s distracted and grabs onto his neck with her teeth. Jesus freezes, barely breathing. He feels the sharp pricks and the dog’s quivering strength and he knows he’s dead if he makes even a single move. Hitting the dog was a bad idea.  
  
“Hey, I got you…” Daryl says as Lupe shakes. His arms curve around her softness and his hands splay across her stomach, feeling ridges beneath his fingertips. He has a feeling he knows what they are. He’s felt the same sensation on his own skin. That rage roars again inside of him and he’s ready to kill. His voice is like a death knell, and hopeful, “You know’im?”  
  
Lupe growls through grit teeth and pulls away from Daryl with a sharp twist, her arms flying from her anger. She doesn’t hurt him though. She still can’t take her eyes off Jesus. “I’ve never seen this string bean dropped on the floor of a barber shop in my life.”  
  
Daryl can’t help but snort. Lupe walks towards Jesus again and he follows. He doesn’t think she’d kill Jesus, but the asshole did hit her dog. He remembers the threat she delivered to him the first day she found Barbacoa. Daryl didn’t doubt her one bit as she said it. Her gait’s calm and assured now, despite the rage he can feel flowing off of her.  
  
Lupe kneels by Jesus, stroking the back of her dog’s body while her jaws are clamped around his neck. Her smile is too sinister, and when her eyes finally settle onto Jesus’ he knows the true meaning of the word. Lupe leans down over her dog and snarls, “I hope you know that you should be far more scared of what I’ll do to you, than what my dog can do.” Lupe scratches at her butt and Barbacoa’s tail wags, her teeth unmoving. “She is a sweet and loving animal, wants to makes it quick on principle…” Lupe sighs. “Unless I ask her very nicely.” Her smile stretches and her eyes light up with justified anger. “Barbacoa, . apretarlo, por favor"  
  
Jesus feels the jaws tighten and his feet kick out at the slow and terrifying sensation.  
  
“Don’t move too much or she might get excited,” Lupe warns. “Prey instincts and all.” She pats his quivering thigh.  
  
Glenn, Maggie, and Abraham come careening around the back of her house with Michonne and Rick in tow. Michonne is buttoning her shirt and Rick finally stops to put his on. Everyone has their guns drawn, but they waver when they see the scene. Lupe stands slowly, tugging down her shirt over her stomach. Daryl looks away from the edges of the scars he sees and he’s about ready to help Barbacoa rip out this assholes throat.  
  
“Ho-Lee Muh-Ther DHICK!” Abraham shouts. “You don’t fuck around do you, girl?”  
  
“Don’t call me ‘girl.’ It’s condescending,” Lupe spits back at him.  
  
Abraham smiles widely at her and nods. “Hell yes, ma’am, my apologies. Heard and understood.”  
  
Rick walks forward with his gun trained on Jesus. He tilts his head, watching the man squirm beneath Barbacoa. He looks over at Lupe and grins. “I was wrong about the dog.” She laughs bitterly, shivering in the night. He looks at Maggie and she nods, walking over to Lupe and carefully helping her back in her house to get dressed.  
  
Rick glares down at Jesus. “You said you wanted to talk? Let’s talk.”  
  
“Get the dog off me,” Jesus rasps and the dog snarls through her open maw.  
  
Rick sighs and shrugs, looking around at his people all gathered and ready to kick ass. He smiles and looks down at Jesus. “I dunno, I’m pretty comfortable.”  
  
Jesus’ eyes widen and he begs Rick, “Please. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”  
  
Rick nods. “Alright, but you’ll have to be patient then. The owner just had someone break into her house and she’s rightly spooked.” He grins.  
  
Lupe comes out with Maggie not long after, and the night is slowly moving towards morning. She calls Barbacoa off and the dog immediately lets go. She jumps over Jesus’ quivering body and trots over to Lupe, her mouth open and lolling tongue out. Lupe gets to her knees while she praises the dog. She rubs Barbacoa’s body all over, telling her she’s brave and sweet and protected everyone in the community.  
  
Abraham watches Lupe. He’s got a fondness in his heart for the woman, simply because she’s survived and took no shit. She’s like Rosita and Sasha and Maggie and Michonne and Carol and Tara and all the women who had to step on necks to get here. He scoffs and elbows Daryl, with Glenn at his other side. “Takes a man down in her skivvies with only a dog at her side. What a woman, am I right?” Glenn just chuckles and roll his eyes at Abraham.  
  
Daryl turns slightly with a bite to his words he can’t control, “Watch your tone about her.” Abraham and Glenn both look at him, shocked. He feels embarrassment creeping in. His voice goes harder on instinct, “Ain’t gonna have her get disrespected.”  
  
He stomps towards Rick and helps him heft up Jesus. The stranger rubs at his neck and sucks in air. It makes Daryl smile a bit as they drag him away. They get situated at Rick’s house. Jesus at the head of the table, surrounded by Alexandrians armed to the teeth. The sun is shining now and everyone looks a little dazed, a little tired, and a whole lot pissed.  
  
“So how’d you get out?” Rick asks, annoyed.  
  
Jesus shrugs and then grimaces because of his shoulder. “One guard, two exits, and there’s windows on the third floor. Locks get picked.” He seems confident and smooth and grins halfway. “Entropy comes from order right?”  
  
“Oh shut the fuck up,” Lupe snarls. She, like everyone gathered, did not get enough sleep.  
  
Rick smiles and drops his head, trying to hide the laugh. Almost no one else does though. Except Daryl, he stalks around the table with Barbacoa on his heels. Each of them watch the stranger, ready to pounce.  
  
Even Jesus smiles tightly and chews on his lip. He nods and looks around the table, then settles on Rick. “Your armory is heavily stocked.” The entire room shifts.  
  
Daryl stops at the wall and stares at Jesus after he speaks. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under in an urn. Jesus could have had a gun when he went through the houses. He could have had a gun when Lupe and Barbacoa went after him. Daryl thinks of the knife he wants in his hand. He grips his fingers into a fist to keep himself from doing something Rick will get real annoyed about.  
  
“I haven’t seen something like that in a long time,” Jesus says, trying to keep his voice neutral. “You got guns and ammo, but not a lot of provisions. Especially not for the amount of people you have.” He gets a lot of death glares for that and nods.  
  
Jesus looks around the room and his eyes settle on the woman with the dog. He can’t really fault her. He hadn’t expected to trounce through the house of someone with a pet. Plenty of people had kids. They raised some livestock at the Hilltop. But he hadn’t seen an actual pet in a while. “Well, I appreciate the cookie. My compliments to the chef.” He nods at Lupe.  
  
“Chef ain’t here…” Daryl growls, “You look at her again and I’ll cut out an eye.”  
  
Jesus looks up at him, hands raised in surrender. “Sorry, wasn’t trying to hit on your girl or anything.”  
  
“Ain’t my girl,” Daryl snarls, “and don’t call her ‘girl.’ She just don’t need to hear your condescension.”  
  
Jesus eyes him for a second and tries to hold back a smile as he nods. “Look, we got off to a bad start. We’re on the same side here — the living side.”  
  
His face blooms with compassion and hope as he looks between Rick and Daryl, cold and stone faced in their reaction. “Both of you had every reason to leave me out there.”  
  
Jesus dares to look at Lupe and Daryl takes a step towards him. “She had every reason to let her dog tear my throat out.” He stretches his neck uncomfortably, but there isn’t even a bruise on it, the dog was that precise.  
  
He looks back to Rick. “You even let your doctor fix my arm.” He pushes his luck, stopping to look at Lupe and smiles in a pained way. “I’m sorry for scaring you and hitting your dog. I panicked, but it was a shit thing to do.” Her response is a wary, narrow eyed glare. He drops his gaze at the sound of both Daryl and Barbacoa growling.  
  
Jesus looks back to Rick. “I come from a community much like this one. I go out to scout for supplies and look for other communities to trade with.” His sigh is laden as he glances at Daryl. “I took the truck because my people needed the supplies badly.” A slick grin stretches the corner his lips. “Plus, you both kinda looked like trouble. I couldn’t be sure.”  
  
Rick gives him a tight and annoyed grin as he looks away in disbelief. He glances up at Daryl who shrugs disinterestedly.  
  
“I was wrong,” Jesus insists, glancing around the group. “You’re good people, protecting a good place. I think our communities can help each other.”  
  
“Do you have food?” Glenn asks, his voice calm.  
  
“We do have some. We plant, everything from tomatoes to sorghum. We’ve started to raise livestock.” He looks around and almost grins at Rick. “We scavenge too.”  
  
Rick stares out the window. “Give us a good reason to believe you,” he sounds pissed and dismissive as he waves a hand at Jesus.  
  
There's a beat of silence before Jesus smiles. “I’ll show you. We can get there in a day. I can show you what our community has to offer.”  
  
“Wait, wait, you said you’re looking for more settlements? As in, you know of others already?” Maggie asks, almost aggressively hopeful.  
  
Jesus sits back with a soft laugh. “You’re world is about to get a whole lot bigger.” He glances around the table with a big, amused grin.  
  
“What’s the name of this community you’re supposedly from?” Abraham asks with the exact right amount of animosity and suspicion.  
  
Jesus looks at him, calm, collected, and confident. “Hilltop. I come from Hilltop.”  
  
Everyone glances around at each other, unsure and unclear about the startling new revelations. Daryl’s chewing on his lip until he hears a soft whine. He looks down to find Barbacoa scuttling away from him, through the rest of the group, all caught up in a daze. The dog’s wild tail goes around the corner and he sees her sit at Lupe’s feet. Lupe white knuckles the doorjamb as she stares at the floor, or something far, far beneath it. He doesn’t see her blink. He doesn’t see her breathe.  
  
“Alright…” Rick’s voice is calm, but it’s like a gunshot in the silent room.  
  
He glances around the group, searching for dissent. Most everyone is wary, but curious. It’s what draws them together and equally gets them all into trouble. His eyes settle on Lupe second to last, but she turned away from him and walked out fast. He frowns at that, but finishes his rotation. His eyes settle on Daryl. He’s just pulling away his focus from the empty spot his ‘not-girl/woman’ just left. They share a long hard stare, full of uncertainty. But they had to try. They had to do the work.  
  
Rick looks back to Jesus. “Say we believe you, say we take this trip, what happens next?”  
  
Jesus nods, eager and grinning. “We deal. We trade. We figure out a balance, hopefully.” He nods to everyone. “We need to survive, but we want to be able to live someday too.”  
  
Rick nods. “Alright. We’ll do it.” He sticks out his hand and Jesus takes it.  
  
For whatever reason, deep in Daryl’s gut, the single shake seems like an omen.


	29. Chapter 29

The rest of the morning hustles and bustles along with the inhabitants of Alexandria. Daryl works on the RV, checking it before the drive. Abraham, Michonne, and Glenn help pack and load. Rick and Maggie are with Deanna and Reg, discussing the community and its options moving forward. Both had stepped down after the W's attack, knowing Alexandria needed more than whatever else they had to offer. They still held an important position in the community. They still worked very hard to help. They also needed rest and time to grieve. They brought Alexandria into the new world and managed to keep a lot of people safe for a long time, even if half of it was by accident.

After she fled Rick's house and hid under the solar panels for a while, Lupe swings by the infirmary to talk to Denise. She was the only one who heard most of Lupe's blathering after she woke up. She witnessed Lupe's near out-of-body-experience type of fear. Lupe was feeling it again after the Hilltop talk and she didn't know what to do. Everything was telling her to run, so she went back to the place where she first made the decision not to.

"Hey," Denise is doing her usual rounds of organization and inventory checking. She doesn't really look up for a few good seconds. When she does, a frown immediately forms, "Lupe, are feeling okay?"

Lupe shakes her head like a shiver. "I… That-that guy Daryl a-and Rick brought back?" Lupe swallows hard. She's trying to keep herself from shaking, keep herself from sinking into the nightmares.

"Yeah, I had to make sure his skull wasn't caved in last night." Denise huffs as she writes on her clipboard. "Tara talked to Maggie and Sasha, relayed what's going on. You going on the trip? I don't know if you should if you're feeling sick."

"No…" Lupe bites out. Her skin prickles and she's still trying not to shiver. "No one should. It's not safe."

Denise's gaze snaps up. She watches Lupe carefully. She can spot the panic attack coming from a mile away. Lupe's in a trance trying to hold it back. The doctor is careful with how she speaks. She doesn't want to sound accusatory when Lupe seems so fragile. "Why not?"

Lupe's eyes finally meet hers, almost instantly welling with tears. The dam breaks, Lupe grimaces and shakes, wrapping her arms tighter around herself. Her teeth chatter and her jaw is wound so tight, her tendons feel like they might snap. She wants to shake her head but she can't move.

"Hey, you're safe right here in Alexandria, right now, with me," Denise insists, trying to nudge Lupe towards the bed to sit. It takes a few stilted steps, but they get there. "You are safe, aren't you?"

Lupe looks up at her with a haunted unsurety. "I —," she blinks through tears, "I don't know if I am. I don't think any of us are anymore."

Denise frowns and sits next to her on the bed, pulling a blanket to wrap around her. "Can we change that?"

Lupe shakes again and it seems like a no. "Can't risk it. I should have kept moving."

Denise frowns. "Why?"

"Cause he'll find me if I stop." Lupe wraps up tighter. "And he'll hurt everyone who's ever been kind to me," she swallows, and a vulnerable terror folds into her gaze, "just to make me suffer." Her words are barely a whisper, "He likes to make me suffer."

Denise's eyes narrow. They scan the floor for a minute, trying to piece together what she can with what she knows of Lupe. She's kind, but not exactly an over sharer. She doesn't really lie, but the truth is always a multifaceted thing. Memories flood of their time together. Denise's gaze pops to Lupe and the word comes out of her mouth without thinking, "Negan?"

Lupe flinches hard away from Denise with a mangled sob. "Please don't repeat that name. Ever," she bites out through a whimper.

"But it's… him? At Hilltop?" the doctor asks.

Lupe shakes her head, whistling out a slow breath while her teeth chatter. "No, h-he's n-not at Hilltop." The grimace fights for a place on her features, a battle between anger, fear, and a bottomless sorrow. "Th-they're connected. Hilltop was a community they 'protected,'" she scoffs the last word. "Basically two-bit mafia-wannabes shaking down bodegas."

"So we shouldn't risk trading at all?" Denise asks.

"I think it'd be easier to die starving," Lupe replies in monotone.

Denise frowns, asking, "You don't think we could trade with Hilltop and stay clear of… uh, the… fuckhead?"

Lupe's laugh is half blubbering. "That's the problem, he's… everywhere." She cringes again, curling in on herself. A hand peaks out from the top of the blanket to squeeze at the side of her neck.

Denise is careful with her next question, "You think you can tell Rick? Daryl?"

Lupe swallows. "I think I should just run and let him — them," she bites out with a pained scrunch of her face, "forget about me. I should have tried harder to disappear."

Denise scoffs intentionally loud. "That's the worst idea. We want you here. We need you here." She gently places her fingertips on Lupe's quaking arm. "You're one of us by now, aren't you? You're family?"

Lupe looks at her, scowling. "Do I really deserve that? After lying all this time? About something like… him?" The scowl crumples. She puts her face in her hands to hide her shame and grief.

Denise's face quirks into half a sour face. "I don't know. We all have big secrets. I guess it's unfair that your big secret just might be other peoples' big secret too." She sighs long in thought. "Is it possible that this guy Jesus didn't bring up the people who hurt you because they're not involved anymore? I feel like that's an important thing to mention if they're getting shaken down."

"I-I don't know. I don't know anything that happened with that hell hole after I left. I was just trying to get away. I avoided all people, all the time. I figured he'd stop lookin' for me, but," Lupe shrugs, staring at nothing, "I just hoped no news meant he died in his sleep or something."

Denise snorts, but her face crinkles in concern. After a beat, she crosses her arms and looks at Lupe, biting her lower lip in contemplation. "You should go…" she urges, like a kindness.

Lupe's eyes widen as she turns towards Denise. "Where?" she yelps, pretty closely resembling a beg.

Denise gives her a patient and loving look with her crinkled brows. "To Hilltop. If you don't want to talk about the possibility of that group still being out there, which is fair," she clarifies, "then you should go to Hilltop and make sure it'll be a safe deal."

"I can't — how would I —?"

Denise grins and shakes her head. "You know how to gauge the safety of a community better than anyone. That's why Rick put you and Daryl scouting together." Her voice is tender, "We can't survive just on our own. We need to start working with others if we really want to do build a future."

"No man is an island," Lupe repeats like rote. Her gaze is empty as she stares off.

"No, we're not," Denise replies. "That means you too, you know." She gets up off the bed and walks towards her shelves. She digs around and comes back with a small stack of something white in her hands. She stands in front of Lupe and holds them out. "You can wear a medical mask if you're afraid someone might see you. Just say you have asthma and you can't take it off."

Lupe accepts them. "What if it doesn't help? What if one of them is there?" She shakes so bad Denise is afraid she's turning into a pure carbonated terror. "What if he's there?" Lupe whimpers.

"My answer's the same, Lupe." Denise frowns, waiting until Lupe looks up at her. There is a wasteland of emotion enveloping her features, from her reddened eyes to her imploding frame. This has been rotting her from in the inside out. "Not one of the people from Alexandria will let you get hurt," Denise insists. "Ever," her voice is soft despite her insistence. She sounds so sure, damned sure

Denise walks back over to her main desk and grabs something. She sits back next to Lupe and sighs. "We can't predict the future. We can't control it or anyone else. The universe is a dedicated chaos. But we can make our own choices. We don't have to live in constant fear just because we don't know something or can't predict or plan for everything," her voice is soft, sweet, and distantly pained.

"You'll be safe with them. With him." Denise grasps Lupe's hand and places something in her palm. "Go give this to Daryl so he doesn't catch rabies. Got soluble and insoluble fibre, good mineral content, vitamin B and E, iron, folates, and magnesium, Complex carbohydrates, omega-3's —," she looks up at Lupe's face and immediately notices the blank stare, "uh, yeah. It's an oatcake. Much more nutritious than raw squirrel. Note's not for you though, so don't be nosy." She shakes a nervously joking finger at her.

Lupe nods shakily and exhales a long breath. She keeps nodding to Denise, squeezing the item in her hand. She doesn't move yet. She stares down at the bag in confusion for a while. Struck with a distant urge of something strange welling within her. A surety that mattered more than her fear of him.

Lupe wants to keep the Alexandrian's safe too.

Denise helps heft her up and nearly frog walks her to the door. "Go on. Go give that to Daryl and let him know you're going." She grins a bit too wickedly. "He'll probably be relieved. He doesn't like not being able to keep an eye on you."

Lupe looks up at Denise, squinting and confused. The door to the infirmary opens and she is shoved out, but in a loving way. She stumbles along the path with a scowl screwed up in confusion, glancing back at a snickering Denise. From afar, Denise shoos her along like a grandmother would. Lupe walks out to the RV. She's holding the plastic bag that contains the oatmeal slab.

When Barbacoa struts outside she bolts right for Maggie, gently plopping next to her and leaning into her head into her leg in a specifically gentle way. Maggie absently pets the dog. A common habit now, because Barbacoa somehow figured out Maggie is pregnant and won't leave her alone.

Lupe walks up to Daryl while he's under the hood of the RV. She stands at the headlight and just waits.

"You gon'talk to me or just watch?" Daryl grins at her. "Usually I charge."

She rolls her eyes and purses her lips not to smile. "Cute," she sputters. "Here…" Her arm raises the baggie up to him and he stares at it.

"That a coaster?" he asks.

She huffs, shoulders deflating. "Denise told me to give it to you. It's an…uh…oat…cake?"

"I ain't ever seen no ugly cake like that before." He shakes his head, chuckling, and fiddles with the engine some more.

Lupe walks around to the back of him and shoves it in his vest pocket. "It's from Denise. Eat it and say you loved it."

Daryl stilled. He could tell she tried to keep a respectful distance as her lush body carefully bent away from his. Her arm brushed the back of his as she muddled with the floppy leather. It made him tingle on one entire side of his body. After she moves away, he's careful not to knock his head as stands up and shuts the hood. He looks at Lupe who leans on the RV as he pulls the bag out of his pocket.

He grimaces. "Might rather eat roadkill."

"It has like… nutrients and stuff, I think," Lupe mutters. "Denise listed a whole bunch of shit, but I don't remember. I think some sort of omega thing was in there. It might be on the note. She told me I wasn't supposed to read it."

Daryl chuckles as he leans against the RV next to her, unintentionally looming. He opens the note and stares down at Denise's hideous doctor's scrawl. He squints, reading out loud to try and help him parse through the shapes, "Since — I — consider — you — like a — brother — take — this to ham — I mean, heart," he grumbles and pulls it closer to his face. "I — mean — this — longingly — no wait, lovingly," he mutters. "Don't — miss — yer — chance, and — grow — a — pair." Daryl stares at the piece of paper for a solid beat of ten. "Man, what the fuck?"

Both him and Lupe look over his shoulder at the Infirmary. They hear of peel of giggles and then the door slams shut. "The fuck?" Daryl asks again and looks back at Lupe. He rips off the paper and tucks it in his vest pocket. He shoves the food at Lupe. "You eat it. You need it with all them nutrients. 'Specially if you're getting sick." He points to the masks in her other hand.

She stares at them and then jumps like the memory is a surprise. "Oh!" She chuckles nervously and glances back at Daryl who she's still trying to figure out. "Uhm, I was just um, thinking about going with, you know, to check the community out. I was gonna wear one of these so no one can recognize me."

"You worried someone will?" Daryl's voice goes disastrously low.

Lupe looks up at him and his body morphs. Neck gliding, jaw tensing, his back stretches as his shoulders square. He resembles a jungle cat loosening up for the kill. She sighs and shakes her head. "I've never been there, but in this world you can never know. I feel like I'm being paranoid, but Denise said it was okay to protect myself. I mean, you and I have had some chances to go out together, but I haven't been around people other than you all for a long time. And all of you are…" she stares right at him and beams, "…You're different. You see this world as it is, but you still want to fight. New people?" She huffs out a small laugh. "I'm just… nervous."

Daryl nods his head, chewing on his lip. "Ain't nothing wrong with that. We all are. This is big." He reaches behind himself and roots around a bit before pulling out a bright red bandana. "Here," he hands it over to her gruffly, "wear this 'round yer head, that medical mask will make you look like a nerd."

Lupe chuckles. "What if I am a nerd?"

Daryl shakes his head with half a grin. "Then you lost some points with me."

Her face twists between a silent, mocking rendering of him and a petulant grimace. She huffs. "Does this have motor oil on it? Are you secretly trying to make me lose brain cells?" She laughs as she takes it. "I don't have many left."

Daryl huffs with a grin. "Nah, but it may smell like my sweat a bit. Clean this morning, but I worked on the RV."

Lupe wrinkles her nose as she holds it out with two fingers. Her animated grimace can't hide the trilling laugh that laces through her words, "You've already wiped away buckets on this thing haven't you?"

"What I smell bad?" Daryl deadpans. He waits a beat and lunges, reaching out to wrap an arm around her head.

When she sees the armpit coming, Lupe shrieks playfully and darts away from him. He gives her half a chase, till they get around the corner of RV. He watches her skip a few more steps, turning to laugh at him and stick out her tongue. She's still holding that red bandana though.

"Lupe, you comin' with?" Maggie shouts. "Cause Barbacoa is trying to get on the RV with me!"

Lupe chuckles fondly as she walks over to Maggie. "Yeah, I am." Maggie smiles and pats her legs for the pup that joins her instantly. Lupe goes to follow after Maggie, but pauses. Daryl remains standing at the headlights, watching her. She gives him a gentle, genuine smile and he nods in return. She climbs in and her breath rattles a bit in her chest.

Maggie sits comfortably with Barbacoa resting her head on her lap. "You know, it's cute…"

As Lupe walks past, she freezes right in front of Maggie. At first, not actually sure she said anything with how serene she looks petting the dog. Lupe narrows her eyes and tilts her head, confused. "What's cute?"

Maggie's fingers play along Barbacoa's head, delicately stroking along her brow. She doesn't look up, and Lupe sees her as a Bernini statue, captivating, emotive, untouchable, and still. Maggie's words are careful and calm, "The red bandana. Rushing off to check on you in the night. Defending you to others. The playfulness with you." She looks up, eyes eerily cognizant and her tone hovers near haunting, "The vest."

Lupe's eyes widen and her words are a squeak, "How the fuck do you know about the vest?"

Maggie folds her hands delicately across her stomach, nary even starting to swell. "I know everything, Lupe." She blinks and her gaze goes outside towards the headlights. Another blink and her big eyes are back on Lupe. "Everything."

Lupe swallows. "I'm really so confused," she mutters.

Maggie's smile grows and its almost maternal in it's gentle condescension. "I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."

Lupe frowns and turns away, but can't quite start walking yet. She inhales tightly and turns back to Maggie, "Does he —?"

"Let's chew up some asphalt!" Abraham shouts from the doorway.

The RV shakes as several people starting to climb on. Lupe jettisons out of that conversation like a bad satellite losing orbit. Maggie looks after her, disappointed, and then scowls at Abraham. Lupe can't see this. She can't look back. Her head is swimming.

Glen walks over to Maggie. "Barbacoa, move," he says and the dog hops off the seat to let Glenn sit down. He wraps an arm around Maggie and gets comfortable, snuggling her close. Barbacoa hops right back up and crawls across Glenn's legs, as if he wouldn't notice, and lays her head back on Maggie's lap. Glenn sighs and shifts under the dog, rolling his eyes as he settles. He resigns to his fate with a smile on his face once he hears Maggie's giggles.

Everyone else peters in and finds their seats. Daryl is last. He closes the door behind him and peers in. Jesus sits behind Michonne in the bucket chair. Abraham is across from Maggie, Glen, and the dog, all huddled up on the other bench. Daryl's not seeing Lupe anywhere. He stalks past a few conversations and finds her in the back, in the kitchenette and dining table/bed area. She leans back against the mini stove, rubbing a single knuckle against the short hair growing on her temples.

"You alright?" His voice makes her jump, but she smiles at him after. Though it is a little tense.

She nods. "Yeah, just, you know, nervous." She shrugs and then grimaces hard, a hand jumps to the back of her neck.

"What's wrong?" He steps closer hesitantly.

She gives him half a smile and it winks up her eye a bit. "I'll be okay, just like a tension migraine kind of thing. Got a bad twinge that went up the back of my skull and felt like it just kicked my lizard brain in the cloaca."

Daryl scoffs at her bad Australian accent on the last word. He points to his own neck. "Where's it hurt?"

Her knuckles roll into the side of her neck and up to the base of her skull. "Base of my skull down into my shoulder. I just need to stretch —,"

"Come'ere…" He waves at her. She stares at him for a beat, but then walks forward. The RV lurches, so Lupe stumbles right into his arms. He catches her easily and helps her back to her feet, holding her hips as she steadies. "Come on."

He pulls her to the dining area and motions for her to sit down. She follows his orders, and she's terrified for some reason. He stands behind her, tips her head forward without a word, and starts digging his thumbs into the sore area. She immediately slams her hands onto the formica tabletop, her fingers digging in as she sways with his touch.

"I hurt ya?" Daryl pauses.

"Don't stop," she whimpers. "I had to hit something to keep in the moan or else everyone would think we're fucking back here. That feels so damn good," her voice grinds through half a groan.

Daryl's lip quirks up. "Seems like everybody else is fuckin' don't think they'd mind. Close quarters mean people gotta get creative. Fuck in a john with the right person."

Lupe snorts. "Oh boy Daryl, you sure are selling this for me," she says monotone.

Daryl chuckles, but his body lights up even more than just how good it feels to have his fingers on her skin again. Covering for his nerves, he blusters, "Ain't gotta sell nothin, we're talkin' bout two hundred pounds of prime and pure Georgia Beef."

Lupe throws back her head to laugh. It's a hard, hysterical laughter that has her rocking back against the bench seat, uncontrolled. Her head rests against his stomach and his hands don't know what to do. He just lets them glide down to her shoulders with her movement. He isn't even trying to touch her like anything, but it's better than letting himself touch her face again. When he had her face in his hands, he never wanted to let go.

She's still giggling, not minding that they're touching like they are. She's huffing from laughing so hard and shaking her head. She looks up at him with genuine happy tears in her eyes, her face stretched with joy. He feels humbled by the vantage point, like he's the moon on a clear night staring down at an entire world lighting up in the darkness.

"Oh, oh, okay, okay, I'm sold," she giggles looking up at him. "Please just say that every time you introduce yourself to someone. I can't live another day not hearing it." She sighs hard, eyes closing from the exertion. She slumps against the back of the bench and him like she just ran a marathon.

He's staring down at her, top of her head pressing into his gut. The RV hits a pot hole and jolts. His body and hers go with it. His hand slips from her shoulder as they're rocked around, sliding across her collar bones and coming to a rest at the base of her neck. His fingers splay across her skin and catch her on instinct as they jostle. He tries to steady and keep her falling forward against the table, so he tugs her back against him tight. Her face points upward and he holds her, both bodies bowing from trying to stall the awkward momentum. He feels a buzz shoot right through him and his stomach clenches. She gasps and opens her eyes at about the same time, starting up into his like she's had a bad kind of shock.

Daryl jumps off her like she's made of lava. He's breathless and his statement sounds it, "M'sorry."

Lupe turns to look at him, her eyes wide, her face disturbingly blank, and her hand pressed against her chest, right where his hand grasped her.

"M'so sorry," Daryl reiterates in an almost boyish squeak.

Lupe goes to open her mouth, but the RV rattles a bit and starts to turn. Both are jostled around in the back again, too far apart to steady each other through another storm out bursting between them.

Daryl peeks out the window at his side. "Rick, what's going on?" He starts heading towards the front of the RV like his ass is on fire.

Lupe puts her face in her hands and tries to remember how to function. She absently hears everyone else conversing. A crash in the road. Just happened. People fleeing from walkers. Bodies strewn about. Jesus starts shouting that they're from his community. The RV stops and everyone grabs their weapons, going out to help.

Lupe shakily pulls the red bandanna from her pocket and ties it around her head with shaking hands. Her inhale quakes, and she has to hold back a rush of tears. The scrap of material does smell like him. She feels so much shame. Her reaction to his touch was obscene, ridiculous, and embarrassing. Her heart breaks thinking about how fast he'd pulled away. It was probably an accident on his part. They were getting tossed about like balls in a toy lawnmower. She basically just came all over him like a first time wanker. She's a fucking mess.

She staggers out of the RV and strides towards the back end, climbing up on the ladder. Once on the roof, she pulls out her new slingshot. She's had some time to refine her design with scrounged metal and medical tubing. It's a far cry from the original she fashioned in the forest, made out of duct tape, bungee cords, and desperation. She positions herself up on top of the RV and digs her hand into the fanny pack at her side. She takes out a hardware nut fit for a Jaeger and pulls back her first shot.

The Alexandrians take out walkers at the back end, so she aims for the shambling dead closest to the fleeing people from Hilltop. She plinks off about nine shots before the humans reach safety behind doors. The lug nuts fly right through the soft skulls of the undead, making them drop.

Glenn, Daryl and Abraham go into the building to help the people escaping the undead. Michonne, Rick, and Jesus are killing the ones that remain outside. Maggie stands back and keeps watch with her gun ready, just in case. She's safe with Barbacoa pacing a wide circle around her for protection. Maggie pauses in her observance to look over her shoulder. She sees Lupe up on top of the RV so she puts up and hand and nods her thanks.

Lupe pretends to catch her wave and holds it to her heart. Maggie smiles and Lupe loves seeing it. Maggie is always so damn stressed, either about the community or the baby. The future probably felt like it is on her shoulders. Lupe would do anything to help Maggie out. She sighs and looks at the car that had swerved and crashed. Several corpses start reanimating, stuck within the jaws of the death that took them. Lupe huffs, but climbs down the ladder to put them out peacefully, one knife to the brain at a time. She doesn't want their people to have to see them like that.

Rick and the others help the survivors out of the building and bring them back to the RV. Everyone gets situated and tended to. Only one serious injury that could be a death sentence or just six weeks of recovery. Life is hit or miss in the apocalypse. They discuss what happened between long jilted silences.

Lupe is quiet at the back of the RV, tucked next to the mini fridge. Her bandana covers her face and she has her hood up too. She's staring down at the floor like a total emo, just blank. She really could use a cry, but not with a bunch of random strangers in the RV. She tries to remain calm with the new faces. She focuses on that discomfort in lieu of another. It's an effort not to completely obsess over how inappropriate she was with Daryl. She'll have to apologize.

"My name is Dr. Carson, Harlan Carson," says a voice, gentle and kind.

Lupe chokes on her breath and freezes. If it was just 'Dr. Carson' she might have been able to swallow the bile and move on.

"Maggie." There's a beat of silence. "That's my husband, Glenn."

Glenn stands in the small hallway entrance to the kitchenette. Lupe knows this cause all she can currently see are his feet with her frozen wide eyed stare. She can't move. She's now trapped in a nightmare. Cause it wasn't just Dr. Carson. It was Doctor. Harlan. Carson.

Harlan continues, "We were bringing back medication." There's a smile to his words, it sounds genuine. "You've saved far more people today than just us here. Thank you."

Lupe has heard his name hundreds of times before. Dr. Harlan Carson isn't just any old doctor or Carson. She's never met him, but she's pretty sure she knows his shoe size. She heard all about him, all the time. Stuck in a dreary infirmary, full of the constant, condescending chattering of an older sibling.

Glenn's voice is unsure, but he doesn't stop himself, "You have any prenatal vitamins in there?"

There's a pause and some shifting. A distinct tenderness unfolds in Harlan's tone, "For you?"

Lupe tenses hard enough she won't shake. Dr. Harlan Carson sounds sweet, his words and tone are gentle. The opposite of his brother, who was just a constant stream of nihilistic complaints.

Maggie's response is subdued, "Mhmm."

Dr. Harlan Carson is, specifically, the younger brother of Dr. Emmett Carson. And Dr. Emmett Carson worked at the Sanctuary. Dr. E. Carson worked for him.

"I was an obstetrician before," Harlan comments. "So you are rolling in luck, because I owe my life to you" The smile returns. "And damn will I be happy as ever to pay you back."

There's some more emotional murmuring, but Lupe can't hear them for the thrumming in her ears. She realizes she made a massive mistake in joining the group. There is no doubt in her mind that this will end in disaster.

And it's all of her own making.


	30. Chapter 30

Jesus lays it on thick as they approach Barrington House. It’s huge and stuff, but Lupe can’t quite muster up a shit. It was probably built by slaves or their equivalent of the time, so she really isn’t all that stunned by it. There’s misery in the walls. The place felt like it groaned under her feet like a just triggered bear trap.  
  
When the man in charge, Gregory, popped out and essentially told them to fuck off, Lupe almost died on the spot. She had met the Hilltop’s leader once before, sort of. She’d pissed Him off in some wifely way and he’d dragged her out to his drops and exchanges in her black cocktail dress and flats for an entire day. She pissed him off more when she strode right into the woods and killed a walker with a big ass stick. She didn’t think that was the drop with Gregory though. She hated him on first sight. A weaselly little lame botas that hadn’t looked at anyone except him. The rest were all The Help. She was confident Gregory wouldn’t recognize her, even without the bandana. So while he blustered at Rick about everyone’s uncleanliness she just stood there and glared. He thought he was King Shit, but Gregory thought he was the last coke in the desert.  
  
After they trail Jesus upstairs, Rick corners everyone. “Abraham and Glenn I need you to shoot the shit and charm the hell out of some townspeople. Get information, doesn’t matter what. Daryl and Lupe, I’d like you out on the perimeter for a bit. Check out the land, I want to know whatever you know about it, alright?” He looks serious before he shrugs. “Maybe see if there’s some game we can take back with us or offer up here as a gesture of goodwill.” He looks at Maggie and is now the most contrite. “I need you to talk to Gregory.”  
  
Maggie holds back a snarl, but only just, “Why me?”  
  
Rick looks down and sighs. “I need you to start to take the lead. I know you’re ready for it. But will you do this for me?” He waits and Maggie nods. There is obvious relief in Rick as he sighs. “Good, cause I’d probably kill him.”  
  
Everyone huffs out a laugh and goes to get ready for their assigned roles. Lupe trails Maggie and tells Barbacoa to guard her. Glenn and Rick discuss what they’ve seen so far and what they think they can do with it. Abraham and Daryl end up in the giant resplendent foyer, walking about like two sore thumbs at a pinky party.  
  
Abraham sits on a chair that’s mostly gold leaf and strokes his beard thoughtfully. “You ever think about it?”  
  
Daryl looks over at him, confused. “Think about what?”  
  
Abraham sighs. “Rick and Michonne. Glenn and Maggie. Spencer and Rosita. Denise and Tara.” He stands and walks towards Daryl. “People doubling off and uggin’ bumplies.”  
  
“What about it?” Daryl squints at him.  
  
Abraham shrugs a bit too casually. He looks at Daryl again with a sharp vulnerability in his gaze and emphasizes each word, “Have you ever thought about it?”  
  
Daryl feels like a caught animal. He forces a shrug.  
  
“Really? You never see yourself just,” Abraham looks off wistfully, “settling down?”  
  
Daryl’s already shaking his head, hair flopping in his eyes. He glares at Abraham, for making the hope inside him burn brighter. “You think shit's settled?” he growls and stomps off.  
  
Lupe’s coming down the stairs and half her face is covered. Daryl can see her eyes light up and her cheeks lift the bandana when she smiles. He tries not to look at her with that bandana on and feel special in some way, like she’d still let something of his touch her.  
  
“Ready?” he grunts as she reaches the bottom of the stairs.  
  
“Yeah, I’m good.” She smiles and walks back towards where Abraham stands, leaning against the wall and looking thoughtful. She frowns slightly and pats him on the arm as she passes. “Buck up my ginger friend. We’re gonna be okay.”  
  
Abraham smiles and cuffs her on the shoulder as she goes through the door. “Ain’t we, hun?”  
  
Daryl follows her out. He stares at the ground so he won’t smack off that smile Abraham’s got on his face while looking after Lupe.  
  
They get into the woods without incident. Lupe doesn’t seem so at ease anymore now that they’re out in the forest. Usually it’s the opposite effect when they’re back at Alexandria. She gets stirred up inside the walls and acts free as a bird once she’s out. As they’re walking though the Hilltop’s territory, she is silent and tense.  
  
“You’re quiet on yer feet. I appreciate that on a hunt.” He looks over, trying to break the spell on her. “It ain’t easy.”  
  
Lupe’s bandana lifts again, but her eyes look away from Daryl. “I had a lot of practice. My sister used to hunt.” She swallows carefully. “Alma used to enjoy it. The peacefulness of it, not the killing all the animals part. We only hunted to eat out here." Her voice is so different talking about her sister, soft on the edges and welled deep with love. “I’d watch her back most of the time,” her laugh bounces the bandana, “and Alma used to tell me I sounded like a buffalo in a bubble wrap factory. Scared all the animals away for miles.” Directed at the trees, her eyes look strained and sad, twitching in the corners. “So I practiced so much I got to the point I didn’t piss my prissy little sister off.”  
  
Daryl chuckles. “Sounds like a handful.”  
  
“She was my everything.” Lupe sighs and he can hear it rattling with agony. “And I’m finally trying to love the person she helped me be. Even the hard parts. Even the stuff that — scarred me,” she finishes breathily and closes her eyes.  
  
Daryl nods. He thinks about the tail ends of the ones he noticed last night. Before she pulled her shirt down and after she tried to kick Jesus back to Jerusalem B.C.  
  
“I got scars too,” his voice is soft and reaching, but still so grating. “Lots of’em,” he aims for dismissive, but a long tended anger lingers between each breath. “My brother was an asshole, but my paw was sure as shit the worst mother fucker you could meet.”  
  
Lupe walks next to him, even though she’s not even sure he knows she’s there. This confession is spoken out at the leaves and trees too. She just witnesses it. She waits and she listens so intently, her heart beats to the pace of his words.  
  
"He beat on all of us,” Daryl’s voice begs to crack with grief, but he doesn’t want to let it. “My ma, until she died. Merle, till he left my ass. And me, till I killed him myself.”  
  
He looks at her hard, and this is the first time he’s telling a single soul. His whole body is thrumming as he waits for her to be truly scared of him. He’s killed plenty in self defense, because he or his found family had to survive. But he won’t lie and pretend he didn’t love every single second of killing his piece of shit abusive dad.  
  
The words press on out his mouth, like he kicked over Pandora’s box and discovered it’s worse than a wasps nest. “He beat on me a long time. I never left cause I didn’t know how. My dad — I earned him money, I paid the bills, and tried to go to school. I did everything in that damn house.” His gaze locks onto her and she’s staring back at him intently. It’s just her eyes so he can’t tell if she hates him or not. His tone is edging closer to begging, and she dares to listen.  
  
“So he beats on me one night so bad he almost breaks both my collar bones. Leaves me and then goes out. Gets drunk. Gets a girl. Brings her home.” He’s chewing on his lip and his hands are flicking at his sides. He’s still speaking and he can’t believe she hasn’t run away yet. “She starts sayin’ no. He starts beatin’ on her, so I get my ass up and I finally beat him back. The girl ran off, terrified right at the start. We scuffled for a while, he was drunk as all hell and mean as a snake, but I didn’t stop… I-I couldn’t.”  
  
“He stopped breathin’ and I let him. Fed him to a goddamn gator in pieces and didn’t shed a single fuckin’ tear,” Daryl admits, his voice shaking from the left over rage. There's a lingering loss due to all the ways Daryl didn't get to pay his father back for the nightmare he made their lives. “Girl called the cops, rightly so. The police called me, asked where my dad was and I told them he ran off that morning, bags packed for a bender. Being the shit they are and them knowing my fuckhead dad and brother all too well, the cops believed me and dropped the case.” He shakes his head. “That man hurt me in ways I can’t even really put words to. And I think the world has always been a better place, even now, without him in it.”  
  
Lupe witnesses him, standing there, hands shaking, and a hurricane of trauma whirling inside him. “How old were you?” she asks, and her voice trembles.  
  
“Seventeen. Merle came back soon after. I think he felt it…” he sniffs, “When hell opened up for our bastard dad. Went off with him and never looked back.” His eyes try to meet hers again, but he can’t, not yet. “So don’t talk to me about scars like you should be ashamed of’em.” He clears his throat harshly. “You survived." It's a statement and a strong one too, not something to be easily doubted. He looks up at her and holds a hard stare, insisting, but more like begging, “you keep it that way. Alright?”  
  
Lupe drops her head, feeling weak for crying when he’s so resilient. She sniffles harshly and a ragged breath comes out her lips. When she looks up at him, he hasn’t stopped watching her. She thinks she sees fear in him for the very first time. The scales of judgement reflect in his eyes and he’s really asking for her acceptance. He’s laying himself out on the ground, belly up, and letting her see everything. How badly she wanted to do that for him too. She feels like he’d understand, but the words just aren’t ready to come out. Lupe yanks down her bandana with a sob, so she can really breathe, and just runs at him. She throws her arms around him and hugs him as tight as she possibly can. She can’t help the tears streaming down her quivering cheeks.  
  
When her arms wrap around Daryl, at first he thinks he might be dead. He doesn’t think he’s felt anything better than her holding him so tight. So he hugs her back, hard. His arms wrap around her and he fists his hands at her back, gripping her jacket like it’s a buoy in a storm. She’s sobbing into him and he thinks he might be crying too, but so much is happening he doesn't know what to do.  
  
She leans back, her face folding with sorrow and compassion. She pulls him down by the sides of his head, and presses her lips against his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his nose… She’s whispering apologies in Spanish and English. It doesn’t matter which to Daryl, because everything has a new meaning to it when he’s wrapped up in her.  
  
“I am so sorry.” She kisses wet spots off his skin. He’s pretty sure they’re his own tears and he doesn’t care one bit. “You were hurt, but you saved yourself. You’re so brave for saving yourself when no one else would.” Her lips press against his forehead and she lays a hand on his heart. She whispers what sounds like a spell, "Sana, sana, colita de rana. Si no sana hoy, sanarás mañana.”  
  
Her face wiggles with a sweet and fond smile and he doesn’t care what the words mean, only what they do to him. He knows right then what this feeling is. She’s sewed up magic inside him. His arms criss-cross with hers as he raises his hands to the sides of her face pulling her close. Their foreheads press together so hard he thinks his skull might crack, and he don’t give half a shit. They’re shaking and holding each other like the earth might swallow them whole, but it won't matter. They’ve finally got a hold of something and they don’t want to let go.  
  
A light snap sounds in the distance and it’s like a canon blast between their heaving breaths.


	31. Chapter 31

Daryl pulls Lupe closer, tucking her under his chin and is instantly alert. Everything is forgotten once a threat is perceived. He separates them, but only to remove his bow from his back so he can tuck her behind him tight. They both look out at the woods around them.  
  
“Stay close.”  
  
Lupe doesn’t reply, but she grips the back of his vest and pulls out her gun. She has a very bad feeling about these woods. She can feel the blood  under her steps, the soil sopping in it. The birds caw, but the echoes are screams of agony and sadness. She can’t shake the hatred she has for this place, despite the fact that holding him made the ground feel hallowed.  
  
Daryl starts moving and she’s flows with him, effortlessly. They haven’t had enough time in the forest together as he would like, but she’s careful and silent, with good instincts. Something catches his attention, so he hides her behind a rock formation. Daryl approaches a gnarled tree, whipping around with his bow aimed.  
  
“You caught us! Okay?” a high voice cracks.  
  
Another stranger appears from behind a tree a little ways back from where Daryl stands. Lupe steps out and follows him. The blonde man slowly creeps behind Daryl and starts to lift a branch, aiming right for Daryl’s head. Lupe presses the barrel of her sister’s gun against the back of his head before he can get it halfway up.  
  
“Don’t,” she bites out the word. It is a threat with enough weight behind it to make the earth quaver.  
  
The woman urges again, her eyes tearing up, “We earned what we took!”  
  
The blond man Lupe is ready to kill drops the branch. He looks over his shoulder at her, face drawn as he huffs. His voice is tired, but sure, “I won’t kneel.”  
  
Lupe’s hand shakes and she has to take a step back to steady herself.  
  
“Get him over here,” Daryl snarls.  
  
Lupe jerks her head at the blonde man and he follows directions. She feels the wisps of her hard won peace starting to evaporate and a deathly black hole is taking its place.  
  
“What in the hell are y’all doing?” Daryl snarls. “Why’re you out here?”  
  
The other three look at each other stiltedly in confusion. Lupe finally has the guts to look at all their faces. She has to swallow the sick bits creeping up her throat.  
  
Brown Bob, tied back now, and birdlike features. Manicured nails, a bright shade of red.  
  
Blonde little tinker bell, tugging at her sister’s side still, wavering on her feet.  
  
The husband Lupe never met.  
  
Sherry.  
  
Tina.  
  
Dwight  
  
From the Sanctuary.  
  
Lupe maintains the hold on her gun. The other one itches to pull up her bandana, but they’ll notice now and be suspicious. Daryl is glaring at all of them and contemplating putting a hole in their heads.  
  
“We won’t go back,” Dwight snarls.  
  
Lupe heaves out a shaky breath.  
  
Daryl squints at him, confused, and replies in just as sure of a tone, “We ain’t what ya think…”  
  
Everyone throws suspicious and confused looks around except for Tina and Lupe. Tina is wavering against her sister, eyes clouded and a silly lopsided grin on her face. The guns and bow remain trained on their targets and do not waver despite the palpable fear.  
  
“Dita? Is that you?” Tina asks as she sways, eyes blinking too slow.  
  
For Lupe, the entire universe shrinks into a pinpoint.  
  
“The fuck is wrong with her?” Daryl snarls. The two older ones look at each other, eyes wide with panic. “She bit?” Daryl barks and both of them flinch. “Where!?” he demands to know.  
  
“Dita!” Tina warbles, “Dita, I remember you because you left!” She giggles and then grimaces, sinking further into her sister’s side. She looks up at Lupe with a wild adoration stretching her sweaty face. “I wanted to leave because you proved we could do it.” Her body twitches and she starts crying as she looks at Sherry. “But we didn’t, we didn’t! I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to be his wife. I shouldn’t have made you leave. Just go back and tell him it was me. Leave me here, let me turn…”  
  
Lupe is shaking and thankfully, Daryl doesn’t look at her. He’s too focused on the threat. Sherry holds her sister up while Dwight looks back and forth between the groups, concerned.  
  
“It’s okay baby, it’s okay, I’m here.” Sherry wipes at her sister’s sweaty forehead. She looks up at Lupe and Daryl with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, she — she — the fever —,” she blinks away her tears looking at Lupe and her eyes go wide, “Oh my god, it is you!”  
  
Dwight’s face whips back to Lupe in shock. His eyes suddenly shift, his body tenses. He moves like a shark with the way his shoulders roll and his eyes go black. He looks just about ready to bite. “We take you back,” Dwight’s words thunk like nails in a coffin, “he’ll give us whatever we want.”  
  
Lupe’s gun doesn't waver any longer. It steadies with an eerie precision before she fires off eight rapid shots. Daryl jumps back as the bodies domino over. Each one has two bullets that ripped through either side of their sternums, low in the ribs. The bodies gurgle helplessly as they fall to the ground, splaying out and writhing. He looks over at Lupe and he sees a pitiless nothing where her tear stained face should be.  
  
Lupe reaches behind her back and pulls out another gun. She checks it out and decides it’s good enough, ignoring the gasps of the bodies at her feet. She takes out the magazine and checks it before sliding it back in. Once done, she points the gun up in the air at an angle and fires off several more shots.  
  
Daryl lunges at her, trying to get her to stop. There’s already walkers stumbling through the woods, hissing excitedly at the smell of fresh blood. “Lupe!” Daryl growls.  
  
She’s wrestles out of his arms, turning on him with a glare that nearly skins him alive. Her features are weighted, bending in pain and anguish. The tears are back and her body is infested with a distant agony as she shakes. “I need walkers to cover my tracks! He can’t know I’m alive!”  
  
“Who — ? What the hell are you talking about?” he snarls at her. She doesn't even look like she sees him. She fires off more shots into the trees around them, not hitting a single approaching walker. He doesn't know who this is wrapped up in her skin and turning her to ice. She's a walking terror. Daryl nearly charges at her. “Lupe! What are you doing? You just killed them like nothin’!" his throat shakes the words out in a snarling supplication.  
  
She looks at him with the gun in hand and her heart is beating so fast and hard she can barely hear him. Her eyes are wide and distant, trapped somewhere else despite the open forest surrounding her. “Dwight would have tried to take me back. Maybe even killed you, Daryl. I am not going to risk that! I'm not going to risk you!” she snarls. "It wasn’t for nothing," she bites out coldly.  
  
Daryl doesn’t know what to think. He doesn’t have the time. He raises his bow to fire off a shot at a walker shambling close.  
  
“Don’t!” Lupe begs, jumping at him, but not touching him. “Please, no bolts. Just the gun.” She kicks out the legs of the walker he aimed at and it tumbled down, landing on its back and wiggling like a turtle.  
  
“Why?” he snarls. Walkers are tripping over roots and kicking up leaves just feet away from them.  
  
“I promise I’ll explain.” Lupe raises the gun behind his back and shoots several more missing shots. She inspects the gun one more time and decides it’s as untraceable as it’s gonna get. She tosses it onto Dwight’s stomach and it bounces around as he gurgles. “We have to dodge the walkers, we can’t kill any. We have to let them come,” she insists.

Her tone so vacant, it makes Daryl's chest constrict. He stares at her for a beat. Her eyes are full of such a complex terror he doesn’t think he can turn his back on her. He looks at the dying group and the first of many walkers descends on the blonde man’s face. He cannot scream. None of them can.  
  
There’s a deep rumbling that sounds through the forest. It rattles up Lupe’s boots like the devil is on her heels. She perks like a hunted deer and then grabs Daryl’s hand, instantly bolting away through the trees. The rumbling gets louder and a diesel engine chugs. The plants groan and crack. The earth is being crushed beneath wide rubber tires and it wails in defense.

Daryl looks over his shoulder. There’s three distinct piles of walkers, all writhing and rolling on top of each other. Blood leeches up each and every hand that leads to a gnawing, groaning mouth. Sunlight gleams off metal through the leaves. Daryl watches a large truck grill pushing through the brush like it's nothing. He skids to a stop. Lupe’s shaking so bad, she can’t stop moving. She’s trying to pull him away, yanking on his arm with her body tilted and strained. He lunges forward and grabs her around the waist, whirling them both behind a big line of overgrowth and trees. They slide to the ground and flatten, he tucks her under him, staring out between the brush.  
  
As the brakes groan against the wheels, Rick’s voice comes from his back pocket, “Come back to the —,”  
  
The second she hears Rick, Lupe’s hands fumble down Daryl’s body. Her hands grip onto his ass, squeezing to feel for the radio. Her hand jumps into the right pocket, pulling it out and flicking it off just as the cars rumble to a stop and the engines cut. Both Daryl and Lupe let out a shaky exhale, melting into one another in relief.  
  
“Ah shit… We’re too late, dead got’em,” a voice rings out. It’s coming from a man with a heavy mustache in a blue shirt. He pulls out a gun and starts shooting.  
  
Daryl hovered over Lupe, but he curls around her tight as the shots are fired. She’s shaking beneath him so furiously, he’s not sure she can stop. He realizes what a fuck he’s been, throwing her around so roughly and climbing on top of her. He should've known better, with all they've been through together, but they couldn’t keep running. The trucks scared the forest into stillness. They’d make too much of a ruckus if they tried to keep going. Daryl just couldn't let her get hurt.  
  
“Damn assholes...” another gritty voice rings out. It belongs to a skinny man in a jean vest who walks past blue shirt and starts kicking. The wet thud of his boot against a fresh corpse travels far through the still forest. “We gotta find the shit they stole.”  
  
“Let’s hope it’s even useful anymore,” blue shirt snarls.  
  
Lupe’s shaking gets worse, quivering all the way down to her thighs pressed beneath his own. Daryl goes to move off of her, feeling like a real shit for putting her in this potion. As he shifts away her fingers curl into his vest. She grasps his lapels as if they’re the only two things holding her on this earth.  
  
Daryl tilts his head to get a look at her and she’s staring right through him, face stretched in a grimace. He recognizes it right away. He’d felt it before himself, that genuine, helpless terror. He’d only seen her like that once before. It wasn’t because of him. It was his bike that triggered a memory of what happened to her. Daryl obliges as she pulls his weight closer and shivers beneath him. He curves himself over her and holds her back as best he can, cradling her head in one hand as he leans his other elbow in the dirt next to her shoulder. His eyes narrow into a scathing glare as he watches the men through the brush. They’re tossing bodies like they’re bags of garbage and rifling through each one's pockets. He remembers what Aaron said back when they found Lupe, terrorized and on the brink of death. Daryl can't contemplate what she's been through or how she's suffered. He still can't piece together what made her want to die so badly that day. But Daryl knows what kind of men they are. He's been surrounded by selfish scum like them almost his entire life.  
  
“Should we hit Hilltop today and shake things up some more?” asks brunette man in a green shirt.  
  
Blue shirt instantly blurts, “Fuck no!” He continues forcefully, “We finished the drop. They know what’s at stake. Next time I go there, they better’ve done like we told’em to do. I want that pig’s ass’s head on a platter.”  
  
Lupe is crushed beneath Daryl. Even his reassuring presence can’t stop the flashing memories lighting up her nervous system into a mush of fight, flight, and fucking terrified. The pressure of his weight can’t push away the pain from the beatings or the fear she remembers seeing in her sister’s eyes. His deep even breaths against her shivering chest can’t leach away that Mustachioed Bitch’s voice and the way he smiled about her tragedy. And Daryl’s warmth is near unearthly, but it’s not enough to blot out the touch of His burning fingertips scorching her skin.  
  
“Negan is gonna pissed about this find,” adds a new voice in a red shirt.  
  
Lupe flinches hard beneath Daryl and grips him tighter, biting her lips shut.  
  
“Sooo, we better kick some ass and try to run back something better than three mutilated-to-fuck corpses!” blue shirt shouts, too animated and enthusastic. “He just lost two potential wives and a Savior prospect!”  
  
Jean vest shoots a still writhing corpse. He chuckles, “You remember how bad it was when the last wife escaped? He’s still not over that one!”  
  
“I fancy he’d fuck her corpse if we found it,” adds Red shirt, and the rest of the group laughs raucously.  
  
Jean vest snickers. “Shit I might too, you remember her?” His voice goes gritty, “Stocky little bitch that could probably take anything you give her.”  
  
“I bet she begged Negan for it even after her little sister got turned into a vegetable,” blue shirt guffaws and the rest of the men join in.  
  
Daryl has a deep and bleak yearning to crush them with his bare hands. He could probably do it. He could probably get each and every one of them if he thought about it and took some time. He’s thinking about who to put a bolt in when he hears a wet shuddering breath. He looks down at Lupe and the hate evaporates. All he cares about it this woman beneath him. The clicks of a Polaroid camera sound in the silent, grieving forest. She’s still as stone, gone almost completely ashen. Her face is blank aside from unstoppable tears.  
  
“Alright, we’re off. We got shit to do.” Blue shirt spits on the ground near the bodies, tucking Polaroids into the chest pocket of his shirt. He smiles at the piles of corpses one more time before turning back to the trucks.  
  
The rumbling shakes the whole forest again. Daryl doesn’t move until he’s confident he can’t hear them anymore. He’s not sure how long they stay hidden together, but he wants to be sure she’s safe. He won’t let a damn thing hurt her.  
  
Lupe suddenly surges underneath him, bucking him off as she scrambles to the side and empties the entire contents of her stomach behind an overturned log. She’s gripping bark like a stress ball as she kneels there, shaking, and staring at nothing.  
  
She is never going back.  
  
She slowly gets to her feet and wipes her hands as if they’re not her own. She stares emptily around the forest and sees the familiarity of the Saviors clumsiness. They worked alright together, but the assholes had no finesse.  
  
“Lupe…” Daryl tries, touching her shoulder for just a blink to get her attention.  
  
She whips around and her shaking gun is in his face. She blinks, actually sees him, and drops her aim. Her head sinks between tense shoulders. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Lupe what —,”  
  
“I can’t…” she begs.  
  
“Lupe, nah —,”  
  
“Daryl, can we just go!?” she snarls at him, but it’s far more of a sob. Her whole body shakes again. Her eyes are tormented and she’s gritting her teeth like it's the only way to keep the screams from coming out. “We need to go.” She huffs out a long quivering breath. “Rick needs us back,” she states flatly and starts walking past him. Before he tries to grab her she whirls on him and her eyes are like amber in the moonlight, freezing him in time. “If we can make it back to Hilltop, I’ll tell you all of it.” Her eyes are wet and she has to blink through the tears. “I promise.”  
  
The two of them haul ass back to Hilltop. Lupe freezes at the edge of the tree line. Her breath halts in her chest as she gazes at the giant walls. She now knows that Hilltop is still very much under the Saviors's thumb. She knows being here will put Alexandria on the Saviors' radar. She knows they'll come. The Alexandrians would never agree to their type of arrangement. The Alexandrians would never truly kneel. They were too stubborn for that. Just like her…  
  
“Want me to go make sure they’re not inside? I got a good look at’em,” Daryl’s question is soft as wind in the leaves. Lupe stares out at the walls like she’s gonna fight them and he’s not too sure she heard. He opens his mouth, but she turns to look at him and her face instantly goes slack. There’s too much emptiness in her eyes, like she just up and decided to vacate her skin. She offers a single wavering nod. He returns it, trying to seem much more sure. “You see them? You kill them.”  
  
The smile that forms on her lips is a more of a wriggle as she fights not to cry. “Heed your own advice.”  
  
He nods and goes off.  
  
Lupe stands there for who knows how long. She doesn’t think she’s still inside of herself. The memories smother her like hands trying to hold her down and make her want to flee. She could. She really could just start running and never stop. The thoughts weigh her down, drown her, torture her, until she feels like she can't move. She wishes the memories could be redacted, purged, and burned from every inch of her. She wishes she could be cured of this sickness of fear. She has to lean up against a tree to keep herself from falling over. She gags emptily a few more times, her stomach clenching in anxiety. All of her muscles ache and her skin prickles.  
  
She feels like she’s infected by Him again. Her eyes close against the reeling sickness, spinning her vision. She huddles into the tree, sinking down to its roots. Daryl finds her like this and his heart aches just watching her fade back into the woman who hid between a toolbox and a shelf. He leans down and helps her up, curling her under his arm. He tugs up her bandana one-handed.  
  
“None in there, still the same old assholes,” he mutters as he nearly carries her to the gates.  
  
They get swarmed by concern inside, but Daryl just says they got spooked by a big group of walkers and made it out. Lupe had a close call and just needs some time to breathe and maybe a little food and water. The Hilltop people are actually pretty kind. They try to help her feel better and do what Daryl asks. She gets a decent amount of space for maybe three minutes before the gates open.  
  
She’s on her feet, fear vibrating her like a deviated photon, and she’s about to move just as fast. But she never gets to see who enters. Her vision is eclipsed by white wings. An honest to god swell of relief shatters through her. She is exhausted by being constantly on high alert. She doesn’t know what to do with this terrifying new feeling of someone standing between her and danger, and not the other way around. She grips onto the wings with a shuddering exhale, hangs from the curve of them, and presses her head against the cool leather between. She wonders if this is what having a guardian angel would be like.  
  
Things are tense in the yard. Michonne sidles up to Daryl and talks about what went on while they were gone. Gregory bickered back and forth with Maggie. Lots of platitudes, inconsequential nonsense, and only a few outright threats exchanged. Jesus tried to be a mediator. Then Gregory got fresh with Maggie and got an earful from Barbacoa. She didn’t bite him, but Gregory looked like he’d seen the Holy Ghost. Glenn is relatively homicidal now any time he sees Gregory, so he's forced to pace it out in the yard with Abraham. It’s a mess, but a mess they can and must work with. Michonne says they're planning to stay a few days to try and figure out some terms for trade. Lupe almost sobs, but instead, grips the wings tighter.  
  
Gregory strides out of the McPlantation and walks up to the group coming inside the gates. Only three people are there, and no one looks happy. “Nathan, what happened? Tim? Martha? Where are they?” Gregory demands, grandstanding some authority for no good reason.  
  
The tall viking looking man, Nathan, stares through Gregory. His response is a timbre full of rage, “They’re dead.”  
  
The people gathered start to close in around him to hear better. Gregory looks shocked. “Negan?”  
  
Lupe grips Daryl’s wings tighter at the auditory corruption that is his name. It's like a cattle prod to the knees.  
  
Nathan nods, his voice gruff as he responds to Gregory, “Yeah…”  
  
“We had a deal!” Gregory immediately says, as if it mattered to a man like Him.  
  
The man behind Nathan replies urgently, the words bit out, “He said it wasn’t enough.” He lets that sit for a moment. “Was the drop light?”  
  
Gregory scoffs in disbelief, his hands pop up onto his hips as he leans into his too oblivious tone, “No.”  
  
“They have Craig,” a woman interjects shakily, glaring at Gregory.  
  
Nathan steps up and each word is breathy, “He said we could get Craig back if we deliver a message to you.” He reaches out to place a genial hand on Gregory’s shoulder, but it shakes.  
  
Lupe hears the death knell in his tone. She screws her eyes shut. She knows…  
  
Gregory nods, his bravado so high he can’t see the signs from miles and miles away. “So… tell me,” he urges.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Nathan says the same time he stabs Gregory in the gut, dragging the knife across his abdomen, and out through the other side. “I’m sorry!” Nathan wails as everyone converges on him. Gregory falters back. Maggie is there to try and slow his descent to the ground.  
  
An entire scuffle breaks out and Daryl and Michonne are off like a shot to help the others. Lupe loses her strength and falls to her knees. She hears Nathan screaming, a wail so despondent and broken she instantly recognizes it. She looks up just in time to see him try to stab Rick. Somehow that gnarly little ex-cop tackles the giant to the ground and starts wailing on him.  
  
Daryl is off after Abraham once he gets tackled by the man in a red shirt. Red shirt tries to strangle Abraham so Daryl breaks the guy’s arm and tosses him off, punching until he stops moving or making sounds.  
  
“Stay back!” Nathan’s belligerent voice rings through the air. He’s on top of Rick with a bloodstained knife to his neck. “Stay back! I have to do this for my brother!” he screams at Glenn, Michonne, anyone he can see.  
  
“Drop it,” Michonne’s shaking tone is frantic as she stares down at Rick, her sword in hand.  
  
Nathan turns to look at her, but his bellow is interrupted. Rick jabs his own knife into the man’s throat. Blood splurges out of the wound and Nathan goes boneless. Rick is showered with deep crimson, staining his face and clothes. He rolls the giant body off of him and lets it bleed out as he gets to his feet.  
  
The Hilltop is silent. Petrified. Rick, looking like some sort of portent, stands bloodstained and tall among strewn bodies and corpses. The people are breathless, staring at the newcomers in a horrified awe. Daryl and Glenn have got some people at gun point. Abraham is still on the ground, stunned. Jesus and Maggie are trying to keep Gregory’s guts in, but it’s no use.  
  
Rick spins in a slow circle as he takes all the faces in. He’s covered in blood, unbothered, and alive. Looking out to the empty, horrified faces, he snarls, “What?”  
  
People start screaming. Rick gets knocked on his ass by a hard punching woman. Michonne tosses said woman to the ground like a rag doll before helping Rick up. Guns are drawn and threats get made. Maggie is alone to hold in Gregory’s life as Jesus leaps up to stop the chaos and death. He can’t though. He’s just a man.  
  
Lupe just sits and cries, her bandana soaking up her tears.  
  
Because this is what He does.  
  
He infects the world surrounding him and poisons it. He molds a sickness in people to fill the void left after they sell their souls.  
  
He calls himself a god, but he’s a virus, just like the one causing the dead to rise.  
  
Lupe curls her fist into the dirt, surrounded by death, and the blood that leaches into the ground.  
  
No…  
  
Negan is just a man too.  
  
And Lupe is going to kill him.


	32. Chapter 32

The Alexandrians got rounded up and put in Gregory's office. The rest of the Hilltop was doing their best to put their community to rights. Jesus eventually comes back to them, sans his leather layer, walking about in a loose linen shirt and khaki pants. He looks like if God's Only Son turned water into an IPA.

"Nathan sliced all the way through Gregory's stomach," Jesus tells the group. "Carson is doing what he can right now, but it's touch and go. He lost a lot of blood."

Everyone sighs.

Michonne asks, "What do we do now?"

Jesus looks around the room, tense and unsure. "Things like that don't usually happen here," his voice is a little reedy and the words sound a tiny bit like a lie, "but it's settled." Lupe looks up and shakes her head at him in disgust. Jesus catches her look, but doesn't know what it means.

Rick's voice carves itself dominion in the room, "We heard the name Negan." There's a heartbeat of silence. "Who is he?"

Lupe immediately drops her glare from Jesus, thankful he was already looking back to Rick. His name still spreads something bleak in her. She is sure she'd rather drop dead on the spot than allow what was about to transpire. She couldn't move though. She heard Simon and a few other Saviors. They were only yards away from her. They're still out there. They're still just the same as they were when she escaped. She hates it. Despises it. She feels like the worst shit in the world. And Daryl was right there the whole time. He knows.

Jesus sighs, looking at Rick with a pinched stare. "Negan's the leader of a group he calls The Saviors." Glancing around the room, he tries to harden himself, but he can't. The anger and fear leaks through his tone too easily. "When the walls were finished, the Saviors showed up. They made demands and even more threats." He glances towards Lupe and she is dead silent and still. "They killed one of us. Rory," Jesus' voice cracks, "he was sixteen. They beat him to death in front of all of us. Told us we needed to understand, right off the bat."

Lupe feels her soul eject from her body. She's glad everyone is focused on Jesus, because she stops functining. Her ribs press in, her diaphragm shrivels, her lungs, kidney, spleen, are all getting sucked right into the black hole where her heart should be. Her arms are dead weight in her lap and she can't even feel her legs folded beneath her on the window seat. Negan killed a child. His victim here was a child. Another child. She wonders how many more are on his list. She wonders if he even knows. She's killed so many people, but she remembers each and every one and exactly why. She has not regretted them, but she wonders if Negan does. She doubts it.

"Gregory isn't good with confrontation. He dealt with them. Made a deal in exchange for," Jesus smiles in a grim way, "protection." He shakes his head. "Gregory built this place and the people like him, but he's a hack and everyone knows."

"What's the rest of your deal with them?" Maggie asks, staring down Jesus almost as keenly as Barbacoa at her feet.

Jesus looks to her, there's obvious sadness on his features. "Half of everything. Livestock. Produce. Supplies… Half of everything goes to the Saviors."

"And you get protection?" Glenn asks, face screwed up in confusion. "From what?"

Jesus nods and shrugs. "They take out the dead. And keep the roads clear. They don't attack us. They don't kill us."

Daryl scoffs, disgusted and burning up from the inside out. He's not looking at Lupe no more because he can't stand to watch her keep withering in front of his eyes. Daryl knows only some of the things she's been through, but he's lit up with rage. Daryl knows whose hands dared to touch her skin with malice. He knows this Negan. Negan was her scars just like Daryl's paw was his. He knows.

"Why don't you just kill them?" Daryl finally snarls, almost lunging with the words. He can't believe a man like that could just sweep through and no one stopped him yet. They had a whole community of people. Daryl blamed all of them. They could have stopped this day one by shoving a knife in Negan's ear.

Jesus looks at him and beseeches, "We don't have the fighters. We're not fighters. We don't even have ammo."

Rick curls closer to Jesus, his tone suspicious, "How many men does this Negan have?"

Jesus shrugs, eyes flitting. "We have no idea, but we've seen groups as big as twenty."

Daryl paces. He's wearing a line in the carpet in front of Lupe. Circling like Barbacoa protecting her from walkers. He's ready to snarl, spit, and tear out a throat. He feels like he's gotta dig this Negan's eyes out with his own fingers. He'd serve them to her on a golden platter. The rage inside him whirls strong enough to be a hurricane and he needs to snap something's neck.

"Now, hold up," anger quivers through Daryl's words, "these sacks-a-shit roll up, kill a kid, and you just? What? Give them half yer shit?"

Jesus nods, leaving his head hanging. "He asks, we answer. Otherwise someone dies."

"What do we know about him?" Rick finally snarls.

Jesus looks wide eyed at Rick, he sighs, eyes closing. "We only met Negan the first time we met the Saviors. No one except Gregory has seen him since. The drops are just meeting with his men out at a predetermined point and giving them our supplies."

"What is this boogeyman shit?" Daryl snarls. "He's gotta have a base or somethin'. He's flesh and blood, ain't he!?"

Jesus raises his arms, surrendering to Daryl's anger and his question. "He does and he is, but we haven't had the means to do anything. Gregory was just trying to keep his people safe."

"They wanted Gregory dead. Why?" Rick asks.

"I don't know, he might have stiffed them. Things are lean for us," Jesus replies. "We can't keep living like this. Something has to be done."

"We should do somethin' then," Daryl snarls. "We should find this fuck, put a bullet in his brain, and every single one of his gutless men." He stalks towards Jesus, but doesn't stray far from where his heart screams to be. "We kill him? We get half yer shit for a year and then we discuss a trade system."

Jesus' eyes widen. He looks to Rick, checking to make sure it's a legitimate deal.

Rick shrugs, a bit smug. "Confrontation's never been something we had trouble with."

Jesus opens his mouth, looking eager.

Lupe sees that glint in his eyes. She scrambles up, her legs feeling like lead, but she doesn't care. "No!" she shouts at them. The sound is splitting and unstable, her fists clench at her sides like a child telling the monster in her closet to go to hell. Everyone swivels to look at her. She shakes, that's all she can do. A bundle of frenzied nerves with disgust writhing inside of her so insistently she feels like the screams will vomit right out of her mouth if she's not careful.

"Don't," she bites through chattering teeth. The word is sharp, but it's most definitely a plea.

Rick looks at her eerily, like he's trying to peel her skin off with his stare. She almost laughs at the cop instincts still bred into him. He does that bow legged stomp to get to her. Daryl doesn't know if he should step out of the way. Thankfully, Rick doesn't force him to choose. He stops, not far from Daryl, but enough away from Lupe that her dog won't immediately rip his throat out.

"Why?" Rick snarls.

Lupe shakes her head against the feelings, the memories. She doesn't want to open that cage and let the monster out. She's learned to care about these people. She wants to keep them safe. She wants to see them happy. Daryl and her have almost gotten close and this will crush it. Negan will crush anything he gets his blighted hands on.

Rick walks past Daryl. Both Lupe and Daryl deflate with resignation and understanding. Rick raises his giant cannon of a gun and points it straight at Lupe's head. His voice is just as harsh as a bullet to her chest. "Why?"

Lupe stays silent and shakes. The rush of the truth, her past, what she really went through, is like a venom burning through her veins. She's fighting the tears that are forming in her eyes. She wished the words would come out easy, but they are a dark sludge that soaks her to the bone. They won't understand what she went through, not after knowing what Negan is capable of. Her teeth chatter and she wraps her arms around herself, whistling out a slow breath just like Denise taught her.

In the silence surrounding her shuddering breaths, Rick takes a step forward and clicks the firing hammer back the same time he demands with a roar, "WHY!?"


	33. Chapter 33

An explosion of movement happens after Rick cocks his gun. The dog rushes at him like a hell hound. Maggie yells. Glenn is up on his feet, grabbing onto his wife and looking confused. Michonne has her hand on her sword, but isn’t sure who to pull it on. Abraham watches on with wide eyes. He knows better than to take his gaze off of anyone in that room. Daryl stands there shaking, his eyes pointed at the floor. Lupe raises a single fist with her thumb gently laid across her knuckles and directs it at the dog who skids to a halt, lips curling at Rick.  
  
Silence reigned. Maggie and Glenn were both terrified. Jesus stood stock still because he knew better than to move with that dog in the room. Michonne loves Rick so much, but she doesn’t agree with him pointing that gun at Lupe, she can’t. Abraham is still ready to throw down and he’s scared he’ll have to fight his own friends.   
  
Daryl turns around and he has a gun in his hand. It points and everyone stills.  
  
“We gotta know Lupe,” His voice is steady, but inside he’s about to die right with her if he’s forced to pull this trigger. “We gotta…”   
  
Lupe finally looks up and she stares right at Daryl. Her eyes are laden with tears and she’s shaking from head to foot. He thinks of the forest. He thinks of her body pressed along his, the scars on her stomach rubbing against his own. He thinks of the way he felt her heart beat hammering against his ribs and all he wants to do again is protect her. Hold her. He doesn’t know if he’s making the right decision and he hates that. But its gone too far to stop now.  
  
Lupe looks at Rick and her face crumples with grief so tenable it puts tears into everyone else’s eyes. She’s nodding her head and quietly sobbing, not making a sound. She looks over to Maggie and though she cries, her voice hardens enough to sound like a snarl, “I don’t know what he wants,” Lupe flicks her head towards Jesus with a narrow glare, “but he’s willing to sacrifice all of you to get it.”  
  
Guns immediately draw. Abraham and Maggie have Jesus in their sights. Rick is lazily aiming at Lupe and they both know why. Daryl's hold is firm, his finger far from the trigger. He's got to hold himself so tense so he doesn't shake like the way he feels. Lupe stares at the floor and heaves out several difficult breaths as she tries to calm herself. She doesn’t look up this time. “I don't trust McJesus and I need him gone. If I’m going to tell you, I don’t want him to hear it.”  
  
Without preamble, Abraham stalks over to Jesus and grabs the guy by the scruff of his neck and starts dragging him out the room. Jesus is unceremoniously tossed out. Abraham slams the door and stands with his back to it, at attention. Rick nods to him once and turns back to Lupe.  
  
“Do I need my gun on you?” he asks. There’s a hesitant trust behind his words. He knows what she can do. She’s an avalanche. No one tries to stop an avalanche, they just get out of its way. If she poses a threat, he knows he will have to eliminate her. He will protect his own. It lingers in his voice that he hates to put his gun on one of them too.  
  
Lupe shakes her head, “Not unless you plan on trying to take me back to him.” Her eyes look up and they are red rimmed but deathly sure. “I will never go back. Never.”  
  
Rick nods, holstering his gun, and looks to Daryl. His brother looks spooked and shaken, eyes blinking hard and his jaw going wild trying to clench and unclench his teeth. “Daryl…” He responds, head and neck twitching to face Rick. Rick's voice is soft, but sure, “Put it down.” Daryl nods, his head bobbing disjointedly. He drops his aim and stalks off to lean against the wall, away from her and Rick. The dog carefully crawls over to Lupe’s side and lays around her feet.  
  
“Why shouldn’t we kill Negan for this trade?” Rick asks directly.  
  
Lupe shakes her head and laughs. “Because it's bull shit. Jesus is talking about one set of Saviors that does drops just for Hilltop. There might be an outpost around here and that could house close to fifty people depending on which one. That’s just one outpost Rick.” She glares at him. “One.” She shudders out a tight breath. “There are at least three bases that I know of. All of them stocked to the gills with Saviors, weapons, and supplies.” She shakes her head and looks at him, begging, “If you go in haphazardly, you will be crushed.”  
  
“Ain’t nobody got us yet,” Daryl snarls. She looks over at him and he sees pity in her gaze. It makes him bristle, but she knows. He doesn’t even know the half of it and that empty burden shuts him up.  
  
She shakes her head. “He’s not like anyone else. He thinks he’s a god. He murders people with impunity and he enjoys it.” She implores, “He will crush you just because he wants to. I don’t want to let that happen.”  
  
“How'd you get to know so much about Negan?” Daryl asks with a crack in his voice.  
  
She flinches again at the name. The last thing she wants to do is tell Daryl, to tell anyone, but she’ll have to. “Because he was the one that kidnapped me and my sister. He’s the one that got her killed.”  
  
A collective swell of grief and anger mixes in the room and thickens the air.  Rick’s voice is hard, but it might be out of compassion, “What else?”  
  
“My sister and I killed some of his men when they kidnapped us. I killed more because they threatened me or my sister once we were stuck at The Sanctuary, his main base. I got punished a lot. I wasn’t very good at taking a beating and not giving something back, especially to those assholes. I tried to kill the big man himself a few times. Thus the handcuffs.” She snorts emptily. “He got fixated on me and my sister for whatever reason and tried to make our lives miserable.”  
  
“He just goaded you like that?” Maggie asks in shock. “He kept sending his men after you, knowing they would die?”  
  
“Everyday. All the time.” Lupe nods with a twitching smile on her face. “Everyday we had Saviors in our space. Taking our stuff. Destroying our food.” She swallows. “I didn’t harm anyone for trying to goad us, but the threats got physical. Some Saviors tried to grope me or my sister. I killed every single one that touched my sister. I think it was three…” She squints at the floor. “Four?” she asks herself in disbelief.  
  
“Why you?” Michonne asks. “Why was he so fixated on you two?”  
  
Lupe shrugs. “He was really holding out hope that I’d break and agree to be one of his wives in order to protect my sister.”  
  
“One of —!?” Daryl snarls, “What the fuck!?”  
  
Lupe nods, her face twisting into a cruel and angry sneer. “Yeah, pretty much my fucking thoughts exactly,” she snarls and then glares at the floor with her hands fisted tight.  
  
“What. Else,” Rick insists. He’ll have to push her to get the whole truth. He knows it’s ugly, but they’ll need it to survive. He thinks she knows this too.   
  
Lupe shudders. “My sister died from injuries she incurred during a sexual assault by a group of his Saviors. But she didn’t die right away. She was in the infirmary for about a month, basically comatose.” Her face crumples with grief. She grimaces and grits her teeth, forcing the hell inside of her right out of her mouth, “He told me they’d have to pull the plug on her. The same day she was attacked… Said it wasn’t cost efficient.” She shakes her head so hard she hopes the memories come loose and rattle on out, but they don’t. Lupe looks around the room, but not at anyone’s faces. She doesn’t want their judgement. She did what she had to do. She always would. “So I offered to be his wife if he kept my sister alive long enough to recover.”

  
She’s shivering again and she can’t stop it from shaking through her words. “That’s the thing with the wives…” Lupe says with a knee aching grief, “he has something over them, something they need. So in order for them to get it, they have to agree. Love. Honor. Obey…” she swallows hard, forcing herself to continue, “…W-we always had to obey him.” She chokes on the words like she feels his hands wrapping around her neck. She fists her hands tighter, digging her bitten down nails into the scars on her hands. She finally lets out a jagged little sob and Michonne takes a step towards her.  
  
Rick stops her with a raised hand. His mouth is pursed in distaste and rage, but little of it is directed at Lupe. He does need her to finish though. “So you’re Negan’s wife. What else?”  
  
She flinches hard, but turns back to him with a deadly glare. “It’s one thing to be forced to call ourselves that,” her snarl is relentless, “but don’t you, or anyone else, ever call me that fucking word again! I’m not his wife! I was his victim and he was my goddamn rapist!” Her demand to be heard is like a bomb hitting its target. The truth rumbles through the room like a shockwave.  
  
Rick nods, conceding to his mistake. His features drag almost all the way to the floor with devastation. Daryl is the one that speaks, “What happened?”  
  
Lupe cringes away from the softness of his tone, but she tries to answer him anyway. “My sister never recovered. She died. I tried to kill him again. Failed. Then I escaped the night they incinerated my sister’s body and never looked back.”  
  
“The come after you?” Glenn asks.  
  
Lupe nods and a bitter laugh bubbles up. “Oh for sure! They hunted me nonstop out there. Tried to monitor water sources. Had their best trackers out. It was fucking annoying.”  
  
“Why didn’t you kill any of them?” Daryl growls.  
  
She shrugs and smiles at him with tears in her eyes. “I didn’t want to leave a trail. I wanted to disappear, Daryl. I just wanted them to forget about me.”  
  
“They didn’t,” he replies harshly and then hates himself when she really starts crying.  
  
Michonne finally pushes her way to the front and pulls Lupe into a hug. She holds on tight and glares at Rick. “This is done.” Her tone is a finality no one wants to press.  
  
Lupe is sobbing into Michonne’s chest, but she has to try. She has to keep them away from Negan as long as possible. Her words are garbled, but nonetheless true, “What Jesus is telling you will get so many people killed. Please don’t do it.” Her lips tremble and her voice is small and wistful, “I was hoping I’d gotten farther…”   
  
Her eyes brim with so many tears she can barely see. She looks towards Rick and begs him, “Just because he hasn’t found you yet, doesn’t mean he won’t. You need to be prepared.” The last part is a pitiful whisper, “He will kill someone. He always kills at least one person." She swallows. "That’s his calling card."   
  
Daryl butts in, his voice is too hard and full of a rage he can’t even put his hands on, “All the more reason to get rid of him!”   
  
Lupe rips herself from Michonne’s grasp and stumbles her way over to scream at him, “You don’t think I agree!? I want him dead more than anyone else in this room could possibly understand!”   
  
She’s shaking in front of him so hard he’s afraid she’s gonna vibrate herself into pieces, but she doesn’t stop. “He raped me every single day for weeks! Brutally too! And I had to act like I loved it! Loved him!” she bellows at Daryl and watches the life fade from his eyes. “Don’t tell me he needs to die,” she snarls.   
  
She walks away from Daryl without a look back. She stops in front of Rick and stares at him deeply. “If you want to target him, it needs to be expertly calculated. He’s kidnapped tons of people like me and my sister. He forces them into indentured servitude at his base. They are innocent. They are people who are no more loyal to him than friendly with him. But he owns them. He hurts them. He terrorizes them.” She shakes her head. “For most it was better than the outside, but not by much.”  
  
Lupe walks back over to the ledge and plops down lifelessly. “His main base, The Sanctuary, wreaks of death... He has far more men working for him as Saviors than either community has, even combined.” She sighs raggedly. “But not even all of them are bad. I won’t lie, 99% of them are pieces of wretched shit, but there are good people posing as Saviors.”   
  
Her lip trembles as she looks at Michonne who is coming close to comfort her again. “Some of them didn’t have a choice, l-like me. I never killed anyone who didn’t deserve it. I don’t regret a single one. I know some of those Saviors never wanted this. But if N-Ne — if — if — he put a gun in my hand and told me killing someone would save my sister's life? I can’t lie and say I would hesitate…” She heaves out the breath she was holding when Michonne wraps an arm around her. “The Saviors have hurt a lot of people and they need to be stopped.” She looks at Rick one last time, with one more desperate plea on her lips, “You will regret going in without a serious fucking plan first. None of you have any idea of the hydra lying in wait.”   
  
Rick doesn’t move while he’s staring at Lupe. He opens his mouth and she’s ready for a verdict, but it doesn’t come. “Bring him back in Abraham.”  
  
Abraham bursts out the door and Jesus sits, waiting patiently and nervously. Abraham grabs him again, even though Jesus gets up willingly. He gets stood right before Rick, who turns away from Lupe. She get’s her verdict with his back bared to her and his gun raising up, pointing at Jesus’ head.  
  
“You trying to get my people killed?” Rick asks, his voice lilting with a deadly disappointment.  
  
Jesus glares at him. “Gregory is probably dying under the knife as we speak.” His voice is sure. "I’m trying to get my people safe. The only way to be safe is to be rid of the Saviors. We can’t do it. You can.”  
  
Rick gives him a good long look before replying, “For what you almost cost us with the back road bullshit, we’ll take half of your original offering for making the trip. As a sign of goodwill, you’ll accept these terms and forget you every met us.” He drops his aim and everyone lets out a breath. “And maybe we’ll come back.” He glances at Lupe and she just sits in Michonne’s arms, looking vacant. He looks back to Jesus and leans in real close. “But this lying shit? It stops now,” he growls. He shoves his gun in his holster and walks out. Everyone follows him and Lupe trails. Maggie waits by the door for her and Michonne is only two steps ahead.  
  
Barbacoa growls at her side. Lupe looks over and sees Jesus' boots just a few feet away. She doesn’t raise her eyes. She’s too tired.  
  
“You’re not the only one Negan’s hurt,” he says, but it sounds like an odd condolence. “Rory’s older brother, Dean, he uh, killed himself soon after.” Jesus’ throat tightens around the words. “He and I were —,” he swallows hard.  
  
“I don’t care,” Lupe says. The sound is hollow like an echo in a tin can. “I have my pain, and you have yours. I don’t begrudge you that.” She sighs, but it rattles tight in her quaking chest. “Way I see it, you’re willing to let people die because of your pain.” She looks up at him, eyes wide and furious. “I’m not,” she bites out and walks away.  
  
They end up back in the RV. Rick is driving with Michonne by his side and they’re muttering back and forth, always talking things through. Glen, Maggie, and Barbacoa are snuggled up on the bench seat staring at an ultrasound from Dr. Carson. Daryl and Abraham are on the other side, both sets of eyes glazed over in deep thought. Lupe is in the back, by herself under the table, crying. No one went after her at first. No one was sure they had anything they could possibly say.  
  
After too long in the silence, hearing her sniffle and sob into bit hands, Daryl finally flings himself out of his seat and stalks towards the back. He crouches and swings himself beneath the table and forces his way next to her. He doesn’t get too close or say anything while she cries, but he waits. Sometimes the evil just needs to purge itself, but he knows better than to let her do it alone. She had a right to keep those things to herself. She wasn’t just at the Sanctuary, she was terrorized there.  
  
Once her shaking sobs peter out, Daryl grumbles into the tight silence, “M’sorry I put a gun on you.” His voice is low and harsh, but he’s trying, “M’sorry about the forest. I get it now. I saw how he looked at you, what he said about taking you back.” His breathing hitches and the crackle in his voice kicks him like a mule, “M’sorry about Negan. M’sorry he hurt you so much.”  
  
Lupe bites her lips so hard she’s afraid they’re gonna pop right off. “Thank you,” she forces herself to whisper. It’s a painful, little thing.  
  
Daryl carefully wipes his hand off on his jeans and then slowly extends it to her.  
  
Lupe stares at his empty palm for a little while. “What?”  
  
“Take it,” he grumbles sharply.  
  
She frowns at his hand. “Th-there’s nothing there.”  
  
“My hand, damnit, take my goddamn hand,” he grumbles. “I ain’t good at this comforting shit.”  
  
Lupe can’t stop the tears from trickling over the painful smile that blooms on her lips. She reaches out and grasps Daryl’s hand and he immediately curls his fingers around hers. His hold is solid and warm and her cold, shaking hands need the stability of its frame. She shudders and sinks down into her spot.   
  
She scoots a little closer to him, trying to steal some more of his warmth. Her voice is meek, but honest, “I think you’re doing just fine.”  
  
Daryl smiles weakly and squeezes her hand.


	34. Chapter 34

Lupe sprints through the forest with Carl and Enid. She scored some water pistols from a run they did a few days ago and had finally been able to keep her promise to help break them in. Carl got her good a few times. She has to admit that kid is a stone cold strategist. He can problem solve his way through Nuclear Fission if he has to. He's so smart and determined. He wants to live. Enid isn't bad either. She's excellent at hiding. She can climb trees almost soundlessly and squiggle herself into the smallest places. Everyone knows how she learned to be so silent, but it never stops them from seeing it. She's strong. She's a survivor.

Lupe laughs, because the woods are where she's at her best. She has a feeling for the forest, like she's got a finger on the pulse of it. The way she moves on through is like she belongs there. She's currently stalking Carl and watching out for his traps. They aren't usually dangerous or anything, but occasionally he tosses a smoke bomb or firecracker that no one knew where he got from. She almost pissed herself the last time.

She hears Enid giggle and contemplates about going after her, but doesn't. She's thinking she's close to Carl and he's easier to spot. Enid fades into the surroundings like Alma used to. Lupe turns the corner of a tree with her water gun held high and sniffs at herself when nothing is there. She decides to go slowly this time and waits to see what she can hear.

The delicate and careful crunching of leaves indicates the tread of someone just not quite as good as her. She follows the sound carefully and spies a large rock and some tumbled trees. She launches herself over it, but comes up empty again.

"Damn…" Lupe whispers. Perhaps the kids are better than she thought.

She smiles to herself, pleased. Because if anything, her efforts to take them out into the woods with water pistols were not just for a good time. She wants their movements to be instinctual if the time ever came that they needed to flee an entire forest full of people trying to kill them. It's bleak, but it's life.

She tries to refocus on her task of listening when she hears something different. It's not crunching or the whispering of the wind through the leaves. She's looking around and then she hears it again.

Whistling…

Lupe's eyes go wide and she automatically screams, "ENID! CARL!" She's off through the trees, whipping past them so fast it's a blur, but her eyes are peeled for the young children in her care.

The whistle sounds again.

"CARL!" Lupe wails as she bounds over a log. "ENID!" She roars, weaving through saplings.

Her speed is almost violent on her body, but she cannot stop. That whistle is an omen in the air, so thick she could choke. She keeps going, she pushes herself harder. She hears some scuttling and tries to slow down, but her momentum feels uncontrollable. She reaches out to grab onto the tree she's passing, helping her skid through half a circle and come to a stop, teetering forward as her other arm swings to keep her balance. Her eyes are focused on the forest floor, trying not to fall. She comes face to face with big black boots.

She knows those boots.

Her head pops up.

"Now, what do we have here…" His smile spreads like a knife slash.

Lupe stands there shaking, as if her guts are already falling out. "No…" she says, trembling in his shadow, taking a slow step back.

"You know the rules…" He saunters after her slowly, too slowly. "…Wife."

She flinches at the word but keeps backing up, clumsy, terrified. She glares at him again and through grit teeth, she snarls, "No!"

"Love…" He swings the dreadful bat once. "Honor…" He swings it again to the other side. He pauses and levels the bat at her face, sweeping up her chin with the barbed wire. "Obey," he snarls and yanks her forward by his bat's grip. His hand is around her blood slickened neck and he leans in to breathe her in.

"NO!" Lupe wails and thrashes against his hold.

Her eyes open, ready to be met with his stare. Instead she's met with the back of Daryl's head. She's shaking in the back of the truck and reality slowly starts coming back to her.

She went on a run with Abraham, Daryl, and Sasha. Abraham and Sasha had gone through a small town and found some artillery from a busted army unit. Found some luggage at a nearby motel and that's where Abraham discovered the full dress blues he's sporting. While her and Daryl where checking out the surrounding woods, they'd stumbled on a fuel manufacturing plant. They planned on going back and filling up every tanker they could find, but they started with the one to keep everyone together. Clearing the plant had been a bit of a pain. Everyone is relatively tuckered out, but what they found was worth it. Fuel is a great resource to trade in and the plant isn't that far from home. They might be able to build up around it or cordon off the nearby town to try and make something there. Course, just emptying the factory out was another option.

It's Daryl's turn at the wheel as they make their way back to Alexandria. Before he pulls through a bend, he flicks his eyes to Lupe in the rearview mirror, happy to see that she's awake. She'd been twitching something awful while she slept. Rick had her re-hashing everything she knew about Negan, the Saviors, and the Sanctuary for the last few days. Daryl figured all the memories might start getting washed up and contorted into nightmares real fast. This was one of her first times out of Alexandria since they got back from Hilltop. She was without her dog too, a comfort he noticed she utilized often. But Barbacoa was needed back at home where Maggie was resting, still not feeling great after the stressful trip to Hilltop.

Daryl's eyes go back to the road as he finishes taking the curve. He spots something a little bit down a ways. As they approach it, his grip tightens on the wheel. "Lupe…"

Lupe perks slightly and looks at his head. She leans forward from the back of the cab, over his shoulder and is about to speak when she sees what he does. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck," she keeps repeating.

"Them?" Sasha asks, leaning forward too.

"Yup," Lupe's voice squeaks, breaking through her stream of curses.

"He there?" Daryl's voice is like the scrape of a cannon lining up.

Lupe looks around at the group on the road as they approach. Daryl slows to a stop and she squints at every single face and absolutely makes sure. "No," she mutters and everyone can hear the relief in her tone.

"That front guy is Little Timmy," Lupe's tone is all business. "He's not a good guy, but he's almost reasonable. Likes to pretend to be that way at least. The rest are a bunch of losers. They call them The Dick Brigade at the Sanctuary. They're not high on the food chain. Kind of a big fish in a small pond at one the outposts. Just a scouting group, I think." She pulls up the red bandanna from where it laid around her neck.

"Can we take'em?" Abraham asks, his voice sounds ready for the answer he wants.

Lupe looks around fast. "Not like this, on the road, straight on. They might not be great shots, but fact is, there's eight guys out there with lots of guns. Lots of bullets will eventually hit a target. If we scatter to the woods, we can do it, but we'd have to do it quietly."

"Why don't you come on out?" Little Timmy says, waving and leaning on his motorcycle like he doesn't have a care in the world. "Join us in the road."

"Fuck quietly." Daryl shoves open the truck door and gets out. Everyone scrambles after him, unsure of what he's gonna do. They leave the doors open and come around to the sides of the truck slowly.

Little Timmy grins. "That's great, just great," he sounds genial, but it's about as real as the old hair plugs on top his head. "We're starting out just fine, aren't we? Right out the gate! Step one over."

Everyone stills and waits.

Little Timmy puts up two fingers. "Step two, hand over all your weapons."

Daryl snarls, "Why should we." It isn't even a question. It's a declaration of defiance.

Little Timmy replies like a shot, "Well, cause they're not yours." His tone is still timid, like chastising a child,

Sasha glares and her question is a challenge, "Whose are they?"

Little Timmy swivels to stare at her. He takes a few steps forward and his voice changes to something Lupe's heard before, or at least a really weak imitation of it. "Your property now belongs to Negan."

"Who?" Abraham barks back, blatantly unimpressed. Lupe is glad she's wearing the bandana. She's about laugh her ass off because of the look on Little Timmy's face. She didn't know right away that the Alexandrians were her people, but she'd been figuring it out real fast.

Little Timmy chuckles softly and flutters the question away with his hand. He looks around at the group and then refocuses on Abraham. "Now don't get testy. If y'all can get your hands on a tanker, you are people that my people will want to meet." His grin is wide and smug, acting like this should all be impressive and exciting. Everyone that stands across from him remains impassive. He nods around to them and starts taking mild steps forward. "Now," his index finger beckons, "let's have those side arms, shall we?"

He walks to Daryl first and reaches out a hand. Daryl slowly hands over his gun and the rest of the group carefully readjusts their readiness, thinking he was gonna strike.

Little Timmy goes up to Lupe next and his eyes are squinting at her. "What's with the mask?" Lupe doesn't move or respond. Little Timmy waits. "You mute or something? Take it off." There's still no response from Lupe and she doesn't move a single inch. Little Timmy sighs, his eyes narrow and he leans in, "Take. It. Off."

"Got a scar that's healin'," Daryl lies. "Can't talk and can't take it off. Needs to be covered for a while."

Little Timmy glares at Daryl for a moment and then chuckles as he turns back to Lupe. "You got nice eyes." He steps closer to her, leaning in almost nose to nose. "Might like to see the rest of your face when it heals up." His grin is curved with a lechery Lupe knows well. "I like to know who I'm dealing with." He chuckles as he steps back and turns, holding out his hand. "Give me your gun."

Lupe stands there for a moment. It's her sister's gun. She won't be separated from it again by the likes of another fuckhead Savior. She breathes shakily as she slowly pulls it from her thigh holster. She's raising it up to the level of his hand, but before he closes his grasp around it, she hurls it into the forest as hard as she can. She can go and find it later. Even if she can't, she'd rather have it taken by the trees than ever let a greasy Savior befoul it with their touch.

Little Timmy is wide eyed and then a stilted laughter bursts from his lips. "Rude!" he scoffs playfully. He strolls past her with a chuckle. "I'll let you calm down some before I let my men take you out to the woods to find it." He boops her on her covered nose. "I'm sure they'll help readjust that attitude right quick."

He walks away and goes towards Sasha who hands her weapon over with attitude, but silently. Little Timmy offers his thanks and then moves to Abraham who is about as agreeable as a mountain range is to a hiker.

Little Timmy sighs. "When you have to eat shit. Best not to nibble." He leans in, still smug. "Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. Don't hesitate and don't be rude like your friend over there." His face twists in irritation. "Bite, chew, swallow, repeat. Makes it go quicker," he snaps. Abraham hands over his gun too.

As Little Timmy turns back to join his gang, Sasha asks, "Who are you people?"

Little Timmy saunters back over to his bike. "I get the curiosity, but we have questions ourselves." He starts handing out their guns to his men. "And we'll be asking them as we help you drive that tanker back to your little community, nice and safe." His smile is wide, but empty. "Wanna take a gander at where you hang your hats." He shakes his finger at them with faux appreciation. "You seem like interesting people and interesting people are a very good find."

He wavers with an animated thoughtfulness for a bit and then bites his lip. "First though, your shit. What have you got for us?"

"You just took it," Daryl snaps.

Little Timmy sighs, like he's disappointed. He fiddles with the gun he's holding chest high like it's a worry stone. "Come on," he starts tiredly, "I mean, can we not?" His tone flickers with irritation, "There's more. There's always more."

In response to their silence, Little Timmy heaves a dramatic sigh as he lugs himself over his bike and sits. "T," he says and a man immediately jumps to attention, "take our friend over here in the vest back to the bumper and start searching. Work your way to the front."

T gets up and stalks over to Daryl. He shoves Lupe hard against the truck as he passes, thrashing her against the high wheel well. Her head smacks back and she melts down the side in a daze. Daryl gets all riled, he tries to jump for her. T aims the shot gun at him. Daryl still takes a threatening step forward, so T slowly moves it over to the stunned Lupe. Daryl puts his hands up and backs off. T flicks the tip of his gun towards the back of the truck. Daryl starts walking, but he can't take his eyes off Lupe, sliding to the ground.

"See what happens when you're rude?" Little Timmy chuckles. "Bad things happen," he insists with a snarl.

Lupe huffs against her bandana as she tries to stand. She's disoriented from her head hitting hard. The memories that came crumbling with all the pain and dizziness didn't help. She'd been thrown up against a truck before. A big black one. She'd been beaten against it. She'd been raped inside of it. She rips down the material covering her face and sucks in a tight breath and fights off the desperate need to cry.

"He having a fit or something?" Little Timmy asks, seeing the shaved head and baggy clothes and that's it. He still can't see her face.

"He just got knocked in the head," Abraham replies and there's venom in his tone. "Give him a damn minute," he continues the lie, for Lupe's sake.

Little Timmy raises the gun and points it Abraham. His tone is sing-song, "Ding dong, hells bells, shut the fuck up." He sighs, gun still trained. "Now I'm not a huge fan of your tone to be honest. See," he licks his lips, "we usually round up you and people like you and automatically pop one right off the bat. It sets a good precedent," his voice is too joyous as he talks about senseless murder. "But you all seem like reasonable people, aside from your pussy friend over there." He chuckles to himself. "I mean shit, you're all done up in dress blues. Look at you! You cut a damn line, my good sir."

Little Timmy continues with the gun lazily held in his hand, "You've still got to take us back to where your from. I mean, do you know how awkward it is to have to ride with a bunch of people after you just killed some of their friends?" He makes a face of tense disgust. "No thank you!" he laughs.

Suddenly sobering, Little Timmy levels his gun right at Abraham, who won't react on principle. "But I told you all to ease up on the attitudes, I told you what would happen if you kept being rude!" he snarls. "So that is that." He adjusts his grip on the gun.

"Wait!" Sasha blurts before Little Timmy squeezes the trigger. "Just… wait."

Little Timmy freezes before pulling out another gun and pointing it as Sasha. He looks irritated now. "I told you to shut up," he snarls.

"Stop!" Lupe screams as she stumbles to the front of the truck with hands flailing. Her knees knock trying to keep her legs under her. She's has to fight to escape the nightmares consuming her. It's a bad move, but she cannot let her friends die. She lifts her head and looks at him. "Timmy, just stop it."

Little Timmy's eyes go wide and he's shaking his head like someone just smacked him out of reality with a fish. "D-Dita? You're alive?" His face splits into the biggest smile. "Fuel and the Missing Wife!? Shit, is it Christmas?" He laughs and laughs. He then trains his gun on Lupe. "Get on the bike. I'm taking you home while the others go back with your friends. Negan will definitely want to know where you've been hiding." His stare glazes over with the thought of all he'll get when he gives her back. He'll be treated like a God. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me." His eyes nearly spin with desires. "Now get on the fucking bike!" he snarls at her, his jaw hardening with the demand.

Lupe grits her teeth hard and takes a step. There's a sudden FLOOMF and Lupe is tossed back into the grill of the truck, slamming hard against the metal. She yelps and drops to the asphalt. Her ears are ringing, she's blinking and trying to see. All there is, is fire and smoke. She's coughing and staggering, she thinks she might be bleeding somewhere but she doesn't know. From behind, hands gently wrap around her stomach and she flails without any coherency.

"Lupe!" someone shouts and it's really her name. "Lupe, I got you, you plumb wild woman." She relaxes into Abraham's hold as he drags her over to Sasha. They quickly assess the damage done to one another. Lupe eventually gets to her feet with their help. All of them are disoriented, but relatively unharmed.

The Saviors, however, are a stain on the pavement that's still burning hot.

Daryl swings around the front of the truck. His breath heaves, shuddering in his chest, and a rocket launcher perches on his shoulder. He glares at the space where the Saviors used to be and then he slowly lowers the rocket launcher into one hand.

Lupe is on him in an instant. She's not sure she knows up from down, but her arms wrap around Daryl and she's confident it's right. She holds onto him so tight she doesn't automatically notice his flinch. She jumps back. "Sorry!" He nods to her apology as he huffs, still glaring at the fire. He turns to head towards the rear of the truck, and she sees the wound in his back. "Daryl, you're bleeding!" Lupe shakes the words out and stares at his injury.

He nods as he motions for them to follow. "Sum'bitch was tougher than he looked."

"He cut you?" Sasha approaches too and checks out his back.

"A little," Daryl huffs. The corpse on the ground has his own gun strap wrapped around his neck. Daryl looks back out at the burning stain and grumbles, "What a bunch'a assholes."

"We gotta hide it!" Lupe blurts suddenly, chasing after Sasha and Daryl. Sasha has a rag pressed into his back.

"Hide it? Daryl blew them to smithereens," Abraham grunts. "How we supposed to hide that? You could see it from space."

Lupe looks around and the forest is thick. She feels like the shadows are waiting for something, but she doesn't know what. Knowing Negan was like having a knife to her throat every second of the day. She's shakes hard and looks back at her friends, "He can't know this happened. He can't know it was other people who took his men out. H-he will look for us."

"Who says he gon' find us?" Daryl snarls.

"I do!" she hisses. "It's not like we're all spread out so fucking far! I'm still near enough to DC and I walked around for fucking weeks!" Her voice almost rises to hysteria. "They don't stop and neither can I! I can't get complacent! I can't let him find me!" She turns away from them and stalks off to the wreckage. Her hands on perch her hips as she glares at the mess.

"She's right," Sasha agrees and looks at both the men. "I know we're tired. I know." She nods at them both. "But she's right. This is how we protect ourselves." She looks pointedly at Daryl. "This is how we protect her."

Daryl and Abraham nod. The three walk over to join Lupe and start mapping out what to do with the wreckage. Daryl figures they can bury some of it, cover it up with vines and plants. Sasha thinks they should spread it out as much as they can, maybe even haul some down the road a while. Abraham thinks they might be able to use some of the fuel they found to burn away any of the refuse left over from the Saviors exploding. Everyone gets to work, Lupe the most silent of them all.

Once everyone is finished with their tasks, the road looks relatively road-like. It's obvious something happened there, but with enough dirt and effort, it just seems like another tragedy reduced to an imprint. There are billions of those now. They start piling back into the truck as the sun is setting, but Lupe goes straight for the woods.

"Hey," Daryl says to stop her.

"I need her gun," Lupe replies without hesitation or affect.

"Hey," Daryl chases to catch up to her and touches her shoulder gently.

Lupe whips around on him and there are tears in her eyes. Her stare is a whirlwind of rage, grief, and terror. S distinct fuck-the-entire-world type of disdain creeps through her chin-quivering snarl. But her face drops when she sees what's in his hand. Alma's gun. "How —?" she gasps into a sob.

"Snuck away when y'all were finishing up," Daryl says. She takes it from him like he just handed her the world. "Saw where ya chucked it so it wasn't hard to find."

She snorts and it's definitely half a sob. "If you weren't injured, I'd hug you again, right this second," she finishes with a smile.

Daryl gives her a peek of a grin. "You dense or somethin'?" he snarls, but he doesn't give her time to think he's serious. "I ain't gon' turn down a hug for no little scratch." Lupe chuckles and she goes to hug him. He wraps his arms around her and holds her tight. "Don't try that self-sacrificing shit again. You ain't never goin' back," he snarls into the hold.

"Never," Lupe whispers against him. They hold each other for just a beat, but it's enough to get them home. Really home.


	35. Chapter 35

Daryl, Lupe, Abraham, and Sasha don't get back until well into the night. When they roll up to Alexandria there aren't any guards on the walls and the gates don't open. As soon as they open the doors to the truck, they hear the screams, the growls, the groans, and hisses. Looking around, they try to take stock, but they know they have little time and less to go on. The chapel struck by a semi during the W's attack finally collapsed. The tower took a few panels with it and part of the wall crumbled. Alexandria is vulnerable to the outside world. No ones knows which is worse anymore. They think it's humans one minute, and then the dead compete to even the score.

They're through the breach in a flash, stuttering to a halt when they see the shambling bodies shuffling in the streets. The group's presence immediately starts a riot of undead. They bolt through, stumbling around the town and knocking down as many walkers as they can. Unfortunately the crowd is deep. The truck horn from the W attack drew a lot of the dead to the surrounding forest. Some eventually found the wall. There weren't too many at first, avoided easily. The sounds of their senseless bodies smashing against metal and their groans at the smell of nearby food kept drawing more. When the tower finally crashed and the chaos started, extras probably flooded in without even understanding the boon.

Her, Abraham, Daryl, and Sasha work in formation and try to clear most of them from the front and center of town, but their chances are looking slim. Lupe keeps seeing the faces of Saviors in the ones she kills. She wishes for Negan to pop up his ugly head, but she has no such luck. She lunges forward to take down a walker, well over six feet tall, standing with its back to her. She shudders to a stop and her baton wavers in the air as it turns around to face her. Pete... His body is torn to shreds, blood seeping all over, and holes missing that would never heal. His mouth jaws at the air and blood gushes as he takes a disjointed step towards her. She's prepared to unfreeze and drive her baton straight through his eye. She twirls her hold to make the strike.

"Dad?"

The spell cast on Lupe by that tiny little voice makes her blood run cold. She is compelled to turn to it. Too far for her to reach, she sees Pete's little boy, Sam. He's covered in a bed sheet smeared with gore. He holds hands in a line with his mom, Ron, Rick, Carl, Will, and Michonne, all sporting the same outfits. Lupe's heart skips a beat looking for missing faces. Denise. Enid. Glenn. Maggie. Tara. Barbacoa. Lupe's heart isn't thumping. It's worse than fear. She can't feel anything.

The smell shocks her the most. In the sea of refuse and death, months of decaying corpses shambling around, she gets a whiff of vanilla and cinnamon. She turns to find it, but doesn't. Though it is just in time to stab Pete through the ear as he leaned in to take a bite out of her shoulder. She stumbles back from the giant corpse as it falls. Then she hears it again, but that little voice has built now, into endless wail.

Lupe doesn't know when the sound turns from grief to pain, but she looks over and Sam is covered with walkers. They're eating his little body, tearing him into chunks of blood and pain. Every ounce of hope shrivels up inside of her and she lets out a garbled sob. Jesse goes down next as she cries out for her baby boy. By the time the walkers swarm her, Lupe figures she was already dead.

Rick cries out too, but Jesse is holding on to Carl and not letting go as she's devoured. Rick pulls out his hatchet. It takes three swings to disconnect her arm from her hand, but Carl stumbles back and he's safe in a sea of death. They all stumble away from the horrific scene, piles and piles, writhing on top of screams and silence. Lupe is drawn towards them like there's nothing else in the world. She weaves through the walkers desperate to consume her. A distinct horror is what drives her movement, a force pulling her closer to a certain doom. She has to get closer. Then she knows.

She's still too far when Ron raises a gun. He points it at Rick, his face a shaking mess as he screams, "YOU BROUGHT THIS HERE!" He pulls the trigger just as Michonne skewers him through the chest with her sword. He bows with the strike and the bullet flies unseen. He slides to the ground and the walkers devour him too. An entire family erased.

Lupe is close enough now. She can almost touch Rick, but it's not Rick she sees. It's Carl, half of his face is covered in blood and a gaping hole bleeds where one of his eyes should be. His body starts to go limp as he stands. Lupe isn't sure he's really conscious, but he still calls out for his dad before he hits the floor.

The world spins on its axis and time moves faster for everyone. Michonne, Sasha, Abraham, Daryl, and Lupe swarm in as Rick picks up Carl's limp body, waling unimaginably in grief. They all start to run. It's almost soundless as they glide through the crowd, slicing through the undead like a blow torch through a cheese wheel. Rick is the only one who dares to show his grief with his child bleeding in his arms, again. They don't stop until they reach the infirmary.

The door opens and there is light streaming through as if it's a portal to paradise. Rick bursts in first and it looks like Denise is ready for him. Carl goes on a gurney and the room buzzes to life around the still boy at the center of it. Everyone not helping Denise lines the walls, away from anything useful.

Daryl and Lupe are stuck at the back of the hallway, waiting and shaking, respectively.

"This was an entirely too eventful day," Lupe quips, but it sounds weak through chattering teeth.

Daryl grunts and shuffles slightly closer, hoping his body heat might help her settle. "Git in on close, stay warm. It's the adrenaline crash."

"I know what it is," she hisses at him, but it doesn't have much steam to it. Especially when she leans into his side and rests her head on his shoulder. Even if it was the injured one, even if every walker in the streets came flooding through that door, he's not sure he'd want to move. They jump apart in surprise when Denise has to yell about the light, her voice authoritative and precise. Both turn, trying to watch Denise work, and she does so with a distinct finesse. She's a miracle in a wasteland, saving a child in the midst of hell. If anything, Lupe might believe that Denise was the anti-Negan, bringing goodness in spite of the bad. Everyone stayed silent and unobtrusive as she worked.

Above everybody's head but Abraham's, Daryl watches on, keeping an eye on Rick, who is understandably pacing, far away from his boy to not disturb the doctor. The tears won't stop flowing down his bloodied cheeks. He walks away and Daryl doesn't see him for far too long.

"Shit…" Daryl hisses.

The door handle rattles, loud and distinct over the din of saving Carl's life.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Michonne asks, her tone too close to begging as the door gets torn open. "Rick!" she says his name in a garbled and pained way.

The door slams shut.

"Move!" Daryl crawls through the people in the hallway like nothing else matters.

Michonne is with Carl, holding him steady for Denise. "Rick's out there!" she begs, staring at Carl and back at the door like there is no possible way to make a good choice. "I have to help him."

"This is his child," Denise appeals to Michonne, "give me a second. There are others that can help him, I need you here." Michonne's lip trembles, she nods so fast she can't see.

"Let's go!" Daryl growls to those who line the walls when he pops out of the hallway.

"What?" Spencer cries acridly, like it was the worst joke in the world.

"He's taking them all on! We have to go get him," Aaron insists in Spencer's direction.

"We ain't even talking about this!" Daryl snarls and rips open the door.

"Okay got it! Go!" Denise says. Michonne kisses Carl's head and she's following Daryl in a flash. Lupe, Sasha, Abraham, Aaron, all charge on behind.

Heath pauses to look back at Spencer. "We have to." He's gone and then Spencer follows, shutting the door behind him.

Lupe vaults over corpses and she doesn't comprehend just how many Rick took out on his own. The group is fanning out and they see a gathering of walkers converging on their leader. He is a flurry of limbs, blood, hatchets, and rage. Nothing is stopping him as bodies continue to topple and topple. Soon, Michonne is there and she is at his back, slicing them down too.

Each person starts bludgeoning the corpses that shamble by. There is a fearlessness in this pit. There has to be, because they can't just stop protecting what's theirs. It's not the houses or the walls or solar panels. It's the people huddling in their homes and the children crying into their pillows. This is their place, for their people, and they weren't about to let it slip away. They would not let circumstances they could not control make all of their decisions. They would not lose their homes tonight. They would not die in these streets. Perhaps this threat would never truly vanish, but neither would their dedication to the ones they loved. That is something no pit could truly contain. This group is insurmountable and it shows.

They pull in to guard Rick tight as he grieves through destruction. None of them can judge him, because they join in for the same reasons too. They keep moving and stay tight, watching each other's backs, and not letting a single walker slip through. They are deep within a crowd of the undead and it's only getting bigger and bigger as more are drawn to the sounds of their raging grief.

As Rick looks around, watching his people protect each other, his grief is eclipsed by a simple sight. Doors start opening. More of the community starts spilling out onto the streets.

"Knock them away! Drive them down!" Rick roars with a deluge of blood coming from the axe he dislodged. "Work together! Watch each other's backs!" They are armed with machetes, candle sticks, bats, kitchen knives, and pipes. They flood in and started attacking corpses, whacking them, slicing them, and throwing them to the ground. They start tearing the horde apart from the outside in.

"We can beat them!" Rick roars, pride surging through him and edging him on.

They weren't making history, they are setting the foundation for a future.

With a fluid swing of the axe, Rick yells and his statement echoes within the walls and sets the pace for the rest of their fight. "PROTECT OUR HOME!"


	36. Chapter 36

The Alexandrians eventually jump themselves into stillness when no more corpses shamble their way. The morning sun rises alongside the slow realization they had succeeded. The light brings a unique serenity along with it. Everyone is exhausted. Corpses line the streets. But no more Alexandrians shed their blood that night.

They gather around Rick's house, where Carl had been moved. People are using banisters to keep themselves upright. Some sit on the steps and stare off into nothing. Others huddle together, staying warm and awake in the brisk air. They wait for their leader came back down to talk. They hope for a day of rest, but resting isn't in the cards anymore in this world. Instead, they steel themselves for the efforts to come. They will rebuild.

Daryl comes out after Denise sews up his back. He glances around to the familiar faces and can honestly say he's happy. His friends and family had made it. They were safe so far. His mood changes abruptly when he doesn't see her. His hands start twitching at his sides, but before he freaks out, he walks up to Sasha, leaning on Abraham's shoulder. Daryl doesn't think he'd ever seen someone sleep standing up, but Abraham is.

"You see her?" Daryl asks softly and Sasha stares at him tiredly for a beat.

"Oh! Lupe? Yeah, she went to go try and find Barbacoa. No one has seen her since she saved Maggie, Glenn, and Enid by helping them get into the church." She nods in the direction of Lupe's house.

Daryl takes off without a second thought. Rick wanted them to stay together, but Daryl knows that to Lupe, that means Barbacoa too. He is more than pretty sure they got every last one of those infected fuckers, but he isn't about to let her out of his sight just yet. The night was fueled by pure adrenaline. He is barely on his feet. He can't fathom how she's faring after the Savior ordeal either. She might be feeling very alone, but it didn't mean she had to be. He moves as swiftly and as quickly as he can. The adrenaline might be fading, but he can't stand to be away from her for another minute.

The path to her house, lined with corpses, is a tricky walk. Chewing on his thumb, he's overwrought worrying about her. He'd jog but he didn't want to risk getting grabbed by a walker that might still be squirming. He has to pike a few more mangled assholes as he navigates through, but he was all more than happy to do it. They wanted this town cleansed and they'd make it happen. Something could rise from the ashes. 

Daryl walks up to her porch and paces in front of the windows. She put up some opaque curtains when she moved in for privacy, so he can't see in. He tries knocking, but doesn't hear any response. Despite the tiny voice in his head saying she might be resting, the other voice was more pissed off and needed to make sure she was okay.

When there's still silence on the other side, Daryl just pushes his way through the front door. To hell with decorum. He searches the bottom floor and then heads upstairs. She occupies only one room and the others are all bare, so it's easy to check. When he peers into the back yard from her bedroom window, his nuts jump to his throat.

"Fuck!" He hisses and scrambles out of the room. Lupe's in the back yard, there's a walker on top of her, and another stumbling her way.

He skids down the stairs, nearly on his ass, and slides across the counter, kicking things off in the process to get to the back door in fewer steps. He pushes out onto the porch, jumps down the steps and onto the soft grass, rolling to get back on his feet. The walker stumbling towards her is the closest threat so he lunges and puts it down. Turning back, he sees a couple more walkers that are jammed up in the crawl space beneath the back porch. They start to turn, alerted to the humans' presence.

"You gonna get it or what?" Daryl shouts as they scramble towards him.

Lupe tangles with the walker on her. "Al—most — got — it!" she screeches. There's a squelching sound as Daryl leaps for the first of the undead up from the crawlspace biting at him.

"Get up!" he snarls.

"It landed on my knee bad! I can't right now!" she growls, her voice straining with pain.

Five walkers stalk towards Daryl, but he can't fight with Lupe right at his back. He needs space. He decides getting her safe is the priority. He turns and walks around her, hefting her up underneath her arm pits and pulling her across the grass, away from the undead. Walkers shamble after the two, but not as quickly as Daryl can pull.

Except one. That one seems fresher, lunging and hissing up a storm. As Daryl pulls, Lupe does her best not to scream with the pain in her leg. Daryl gets far enough and has a few feet of space between him and the fastest, while the other undead are barely keeping up. He leaves Lupe to squirm in silent agony and stands up to face the asshole causing him so much irritation.

As he raises his knife, a black blur comes tumbling out from underneath the porch. It skids around the group of undead before jumping and slamming into the back of the quick walker. The walker falls even too fast for Daryl to jump back, which is good tidings. Its skull cracks against his steel toed boots, splattering brain matter at his feet.

Barbacoa sits on the back of the quick walker and her body waggles furiously at the sight of Daryl. Lupe yelps slightly and Barbacoa instantly perks, shooting off of the corpse, making Daryl jump out of the way. Barbacoa scrambles desperately around Lupe, whining and wiggling and licking up a storm. Lupe squeals happily on the ground and tries to hug the blood-slick dog. Barbacoa doesn't look injured though, bright eyed and bushy tailed as all hell.

Daryl doesn't have the option to enjoy the sight for long. He turns back to the other walkers shambling over. There are four left. He's sure he can take them. Lupe and Barbacoa are in the line of fire. His exhaustion wisps away as he lunges.

Daryl got one in the head and then the black blur was back taking down another right next to him. His knife lands in another skull and he turns to see the hissing face of a walker mere inches away. He leans back and tries to twist his knife. The thing freezes and the snarling maw goes slack before its teeth met any of Daryl's skin. It slumps to the side with a black baton sticking out of its head guiding it back away from Daryl.

It thumps to the ground after Lupe dislodges her baton. She limps back a bit to give it space to fall and to steady herself despite her weak leg. Barbacoa's at her side and definitely in need of a bath. Lupe smiles with tears forming in her eyes and pets her dog generously despite her imbalance. She looks up and Daryl's staring at her, his chest huffing magnificently in the dawning sun. He's covered in sweat and gore still, but she has never seen such a gorgeous sight.

"Thank you," Lupe whimpers through her desperate tears. "Thank you so much. I needed to find her," her words come out rapid fire, "I needed to make sure she was okay or find her body so I could bury her right. I went into the house and didn't see her so I came into the back and walked right down the porch and those things didn't come for me, I didn't even see them! Then when I did, I got flanked by that asshole and it kept trying to rip my stomach open and I couldn't go through that again —,"

Daryl starts stalking towards her. His words hit like bullets, "Lupe I'm gonna need you to shut the fuck up so I can hold the shit out of you."

His arms spread open for her and she stutters through her tears, "Oh-okay…" She sniffles and rams her face into his chest. His arms slam around her like a vice and she shudders against him. He holds her there for what feels like forever and he'd keep holding her too. He didn't give a damn anymore. He'd only let her go when she wanted to walk away, and not a goddamn minute sooner. He just needed her safe, not because she was helpless, but because he wanted her to survive, he wanted her to have a future. He wanted the chance just to be in it with her.

She eventually shakes herself out and ends up slumped against him completely, but still wide awake. Barbacoa circles them happily, her tail wagging and flicking around bits of walker she chewed right up.

Lupe's voice is sudden and clear, "You ever think about why we get sick from their fluids, but she doesn't?"

Daryl nods. "Might not be transmissible that way. You know how we can catch shit from birds and pigs? Don't hear that about dogs really."

Lupe agrees vehemently into the warmth of his chest and he curls around her further. "I'm really glad you're okay," she murmurs into his skin.

"Fuckin' shit sweetheart, you scared the hell outta me," he rumbles.

Lupe doesn't exactly freeze in his arms, but the thoughts are rather disarming. Negan was a chum bucket of endearments. He'd use every sweet word in the book to condescend to anyone, but especially his wives. He loved nicknames and pet names and never shut the fuck up with the baby and doll and darlin'. But he hadn't ever called her sweetheart and Daryl did.

It felt so much different. It felt clean.


	37. Chapter 37

Lupe survived that nightmare. She always survives. She fears for the day she might be the only one left. She withers further into Daryl, unable to stop herself at this point.

Daryl keeps her from fully collapsing and scoops her up into his arms. "Let's go to Denise."

Lupe flails weakly in his grasp, "I can walk!"

Daryl snorts. "I know you can, damn. I just ain't fuckin' lettin' ya. Said yer knee went bad and I don't wanna risk one of our best fighters." He carriers her out of the backyard.

Lupe stops squirming and looks up at him, "You think I'm one of the best?" Barbacoa takes the lead, scanning through the area and deciding on threats. There weren't too many because Daryl took them back through his path on purpose.

Daryl almost laughs. "Sugar, I've seen you comb through nearly fifteen of those things by yourself with them little sticks. Yer more than just a good shot with that little gun and a rifle, plus that sling shot of yours. You ain't even pause to think about letting people down, you just don't do it." He huffs defensively. "Course I think you're one of our best fighters. You hit your fuckin' head?" Lupe giggles in his arms. He enjoys the sound so much he wants to bottle it, bathe in it, sleep in it. He swallows heavily and continues, "This place needs ya…" The words want to stay in his throat. A desperate fear claws to keep it closed. He forces them out anyway, "I-I need ya."

He doesn't keep talking, but Lupe is unsure she's right in what she just heard. "Y-you n-n-need me?" she asks incredulously.

Daryl doesn't look at her, not even a glance. Well, maybe one, but he can't stand that look in her eyes. It's too pure to be directed at him. He shoulda kept his damn mouth shut. "I don't — I ain't —,"

"Put me down…"

"Huh?" Daryl flutters from his mumbling.

Lupe starts wriggling again. "Put me down!"

Daryl instantly does as he's told and takes several steps back from her. "M'sorry…" He shakes his head furiously at her as she limps forward.

"Daryl?" Lupe smiles at him, even though he won't look at her. She lurches after him, even though he keeps backing away. "Daryl, I'm gonna need you to shut the fuck up and stay still so I can catch you and kiss the shit out of you."

Daryl's head pops up and he hits the reboot.

She grins at him as she hobbles closer. "That is, if you want —,"

Daryl's mouth slams against hers and she is right there ready for him. The kiss is intense, but not overwhelming. They don't claw each other's close off or slam against any walls, but there's a lot of whimpering and confused hands grasping at a place to hold. They end up entangled, and sink into each other's bodies. They hold on for dear life cause it's the first taste they've had of it in a long fucking time.

Till they realize they're in the middle of the goddamn street.

Till they hear the cheers of the fucking entirety of surviving Alexandrians, hooting and hollering from maybe a house or two away.

Till they hear Eric, who grabbed a bunch of leaves to toss in the air like confetti, shouting, "It's a Christmas Miracle!"

Daryl and Lupe pull away smiling and huffing, just staring back at each other. Daryl cups Lupe's face in his large calloused hand and relishes in the peace she provides in just one look.

"I'll admit I am a slightly impulsive person and that may have been ill advised in the current setting." Lupe chuckles softly. Her eyes flit around his face and the surrounding town, but she leans up for one more soft kiss.

"S'alright, we're all on top of each other anyway." Daryl huffs and curls his other hand around her jaw, his thumb brushes along the warmth of her round cheek. "Fuckin' in a john with the right person, right?"

Lupe sputters, her head drops on his chest so she doesn't spit in his face. She looks back up at him with an enchanting smile. "I'm not gonna fuck you in a bathroom Daryl, no matter what your kink is."

"Hey, s'just a thought," he deadpans and scoops her back up in her arms. "Jus'sayin, we got options." Lupe buries her face in her hands as he carries her to Denise, amidst some more hooting and hollering.

Denise opens the door from the inside and looks out at all the noise. "What's happening?"

Daryl squeezes past her. "Ain't nothin', need you to look at Lupe's knee."

Denise is about to close the door when Tara barges right in after them. "Not nothing!" she rasps, knowing well enough to keep quiet in the house. "Daryl and Lupe just made out in the town square!"

Denise whips around to look at them, her mouth wide open in delighted shock. "You guys finally kissed?" Her hands clasp at her chest and it looks like hearts are going to start floating around her head any minute.

Daryl plops Lupe on the counter he just sat at, far enough back she can straighten out her knee for support. "Ain't yer business right now, but her knee is. Stop fussin'."

Denise walks forward and gives Daryl a dirty look. "I can do both!" She starts helping Lupe roll up her pant leg to get a look. "Dislocation or sublux?"

"Sublux I think. Corpse just fell on it bad, but I could walk on it a little after," Lupe replies.

"So this was your first kiss?" Denise asks as she gently prods Lupe's knee.

Lupe bites her lips shut and looks at Daryl with a question in her eyes. It's not like they really had a chance to talk about the parameters of their relationship, or if there even was one.

"I said ain't yer business, make sure her knees alright," Daryl grumbles.

Denise sighs animatedly with manipulating Lupe's knee. "I so called it," she chuckles smugly. She looks at Daryl and her smile is bright. She lunges and hugs him tight, then turns back to Lupe. "You know the drill, keep it wrapped for a while and ice it for a bit, on and off. Rest a few damn days."

"What you mean 'called it'?" Daryl snaps.

Denise grins. "I've always said to myself, the only person who might pop up on Daryl's radar is someone who can knock him on his ass," she chuckles, "one way or another." She winks at Lupe.

Lupe broils in embarrassment, plus the exhaustion, but also kind of twirling with the high of kissing someone she really cares about. She was scared she'd never get to have that again. Especially after Negan. The thought only sours her mood slightly, but she knows that she'll always struggle with her past with that monster. He hurt her deep.

"Man, shut up Denise," Daryl grumbles.

Denise turns and grabs his cheek. "D'awwww, young love."

Daryl slaps her hand away with a grimace and drawls, "Stop."

She smiles at him knowingly, watching the blush on his cheeks burn. She turns back to Lupe. "We don't have much in the way of pain meds unfortunately."

"That's okay, I'll be fine." Lupe waves her away. "You have any mobility aids?"

Denise walks over to a tall med cabinet. "We don't have much in the way of anything if I'm gonna be honest." She opens it up, rather bare, but there's a metal cane with an offset handle. "You are in luck though." She grabs two ace bandages and brings them all over. "Now go home, take a nice hot shower or a bath or both, then wrap it and ice it."

Lupe salutes. "Yes Doctor." Denise winks.

Daryl helps Lupe off the counter and adjusts the cane for her height. She stabilizes with it and is able to walk on her own. She's just getting ready to shuffle out the door with Daryl, when Michonne and Rick come around the corner.

"How is Carl?" comes shooting out of Lupe's mouth. She shuts her eyes tight. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

Rick shakes his head with a weak smile. His eyes are red rimmed and Michonne is basically all that's keeping him standing at this point. "It's alright… He's alright. Denise did great," he says with a crack in his voice that gets everyone a bit misty eyed. He smiles, so openly grateful at Denise. "He woke up for just a short while, able to squeeze my hand and give me some one-word answers, but he's tired."

"He worked so hard Rick. He is such an amazing kid," Lupe replies, smiling and bright.

Rick sniffles and wipes at his eyes, nodding his head. "Yeah, yeah, he really is." He smiles at Lupe with quivering lips. She supplies whatever compassion he needs in this tortuous space, just with that single wide open look. He understands her daunting vulnerability more now. She's always there for people, even if they don't know it. He nods at her hard. "Thank you." He swallows and shakes his head again. "What was all that racket outside?"

Michonne chuckles softly. "We thought we'd see people doing the wave out there."

There's a beat of silence where neither Daryl or Lupe have the guts to put words to what just happened.

So Tara does it for them, spitting the statement out fast, "Daryl and Lupe kissed!"

Daryl and Lupe get immediately bashful, acting as if they aren't in the same room. Rick's eyes just about pop out of his head while Michonne grins on knowingly. Their leader finally lets out a hefty chuckle and shakes his head. He pats Daryl on the shoulder solidly and smiles at him. "Bout damn time."

Daryl gets and bristly and grimacy, and Lupe just giggles, mostly at his reaction.

"Shit…" Daryl grumbles at Rick and shrugs off his hand. "Man, yer an asshole."

Rick's smile just gets wider.

"Sorry to interrupt, I really love seeing Daryl blush," Denise smiles, "but we should probably give Carl another dose of medication. We should keep him stable as we can until we run out."

"Alright, thank you Denise." Rick nods. "We'll start scavenging again once we've all had some rest."

"Wait!" Lupe jumps, her eyes popping open and a gigantic smile spreading across her face. "I know where we can get meds! A lot of them too!"

"Where?" Denise sounds urgent.

"It may not be enough for a whole town and it may not even be there anymore, but it's in my dad's old truck. Before I was captured, me and my sister had it hidden." Lupe grins. "We had a whole bunch of supplies in there. We mostly collected medicine and such, we thought it'd be more useful for trades. We stopped trying with people after a while but the habit stuck. We had some ammo in there that I'm pretty sure was still in the cab. Little bit of food and water too, we mostly hunted and purified out own water, boiling and rock filtering." She nods urgently. "It was Savior territory back then, I don't know if they change their shit up, but if it's a small group we can probably evade them pretty easy."

Rick smiles at her so wide she thought he might pass out from the effort. "It might be something Lupe, and that's enough. Let's take the day to rest up. Tomorrow we start on restoration and you and Daryl can make plans for the trip." Everyone nods and says their goodbyes.

Daryl stays by Lupe as she limps out. Barbacoa is careful after knocking the cane once. She learned pretty quick that the silvery thing kept her pack leader from crashing to the floor. Lupe is pretty practiced with a cane, as she used to use them often when her shit flared up. She hadn't used one recently because she usually just forced her way through, keeping her joints as supported as they could be, and hoping for the best.

Everyone smiles at them as they leave, so they avoided looking. Managing to get away from the giggling throng, Daryl helps Lupe through the corpses. Barbacoa runs ahead and pulls on bodies them to make a path. They eventually get to her house and he helps her up the stairs.

"Think you can stand for a shower?" he asks her. He's trying not to hover too much, but he doesn't like the way she grimaces with each step.

She nods. "I can, at least to get the gunk off. I might still want a bath after because fuck all of the last twenty four hours."

Daryl scoffs playfully behind her. "All of'em?"

Lupe snorts. "Fishing for compliments already?"

Daryl chuckles and then slips by to open up the bathroom door. Lupe waddles in and stares for a little bit. He waits and then slowly makes his way to leave until he sees her shudder. "Ya alright?"

She shakes her head slowly. "No, no I'm not. I don't know if I ever will be, Daryl. Do you know that?"

He shrugs even though she isn't looking at him. "Y'ain't the only one who might not be okay. Don't have to be perfect, just have to be you."

She shudders again, but there's a soft laugh along with it. "I feel like I can't lift my arms." She sniffles and turns, slow and stiff. "I'm exhausted to the fucking bone."

"We can cut you out if you want." Daryl smirks.

She chuffs at him, wiping at her face. "Funny…" She smiles a twisted grin of her own. "You already trying to get me naked?"

"I mean to shower right now? Yeah, I am. But later on down the line? Maybe… fer, uh something else? Yeah also… if yer interested, at least." Daryl steps forward nervously and curves his hand along her cheek. His thumb strokes through the blood and grime to touch her skin. "Ain't no rush for any of that, even if we joke, ya hear?"

"No rush? Feels like everything is a rush these days." Lupe turns away to lean her cane against the wall and sits on the toilet cover to start taking off her shoes.

Daryl nods. "Sure, maybe, but we don'need to rush that. I'm happy to just keep kissin' yer face off if you let me."

Lupe snickers and Daryl comes over to help her with the shoes. His hand carefully wraps around her ankle and she stills, eyes wide, but not seeing much of anything. She's trapped in a memory when her ankles were sore and rubbed raw from cuffs. A set of fingers traced the bruised lines left over like they were a trophy. She could still smell the distinct stench of her sister's body being freshly burned.

"I don't gotta talk about nothin' if yer unsure about this," Daryl says, trying to catch her eye.

Her gaze pops to his face and the blank look covering the trap in her mind softens into a smile. "Oh jeez Daryl, I'm not unsure about you, like as a choice and a person. You're so brave and kind. I like talking to you about anything cause you always have an interesting perspective. You're kind of silly. You're honest and genuine. I think you're strong, but not just cause you can wrestle gators. You're super handsome, and I can't tell you why but your shoulders drive me to a vaporous delirium." Her nose wrinkles in a smile while he's blushing up a storm. The smile twists with a pain unrelated to her sore body. "I'm unsure about myself and what I'm ready for. It might be sort of… one step forward, two steps back sometimes is all. Trauma is a shit of a thing."

He nods. "I get that." He stands up and puts out his hands.

She shakes her head at him, but smiles. "I might need to take my pants off sitting down, so I don't twist my knee. You can go ahead and wait for me downstairs or I can come find you when I'm done."

Daryl shakes his head. "I'll wait, you take your time." He chuckles, "Maybe just don't take up all the hot water, else I'll have to hose off in the back with Barbacoa."

Lupe giggles and nods. "I'll try to be good." She grabs onto the sink to help leverage herself to stand so she can more easily unbutton her pants and get them down over the easy parts. Unfortunately her legs decide they've already checked out for the day. Chewing her lip nervously she sighs. "Um Daryl… I don't think I can stand up on my own."

"I'll help ya up." He reaches down to position himself to help her stand, like Merle used to help his ma on her bad days, but Lupe stops him.

"I mean —," she huffs a few breaths, "I mean, I also don't know if I can shower on my own."

Daryl's eyes go wide. "Oh," he looks around bashfully, "ya want — uh — can I —?" He doesn't really know what to offer.

She cringes. "This might be weird, but me and Alma used to have to do it sometimes… You could, um, be — in there — wi-with me." Her eyes screw shut with a distinct embarrassment.

"I don't mind," Daryl drawls, "I just don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"I don't wanna do that to you either." She shakes her head. "Never mind, um, if you can sit me in there, I can strip and wash on the floor, if you'd just wait within yelling distance, I'll need help out, that's all, and I can —,"

"We could keep our skivvies on," Daryl interjects and her nervous muttering ceases.

"We could." She swallows heavily. "I should warn you, before we decide on anything, that I have scars Daryl. A lot. I don't know if they're quite like yours." Her voice goes shaky, "Negan put them there for a reason, but it wasn't just the punishment. He, uh, he —," she looks up at Daryl and he's kicking off his boots. "What're you —?"

"I'm doing this before we keep trying to talk ourselves backwards." He slips off his vest, arms stretching and flexing.

"Daryl, this is —," she chokes. There's no explanation that goes along with her scars. They're self evident, if horrible too. Daryl continues stripping and he's not looking back, but theres tension in the way he undresses. "N-Negan —," the name stings like a needle through her tongue, "c-carved the letter N into my stomach with his special barbed wire bat." She bites her lips closed and the tears form in her eyes. "H-He branded me with him. It'll never come off and now you have to see it." Her face sinks into her palms.

Daryl slows his movement of unbuckling his belt. "I don't gotta see anything you don't want me to see." He walks over to her and kneels right in front of her, half dressed. "I can keep my eyes closed the entire damn time or we can turn off the lights. This is about carin' for you. Nothin' else."

He insists this part because it's the most important, "He did all that to you because he wanted to break ya. He hurt ya, but he didn't break nothing. You're good Lupe, scars and all. He don't matter one fuckin' bit." He clears his throat and reaches out, gently stroking the back of his knuckle along her forearm as she cries into her hands.

"They're a part of you, your survival, and you're beautiful and fierce. That's all I wanna hear on the matter, cause you left his ass and showed him who the fuck you are. You were never who he tried to make you. You always stayed you." He hangs his head for a bit. "Shit, you even faked your name, sweetheart. He don't get to keep one measly bit of the real you. You showed him that. You proved it."

Her hands peel away from her face and she shudders out a breath, nodding to him. "Fuck him," she snarls through her tears.

"Fuck'em," Daryl agrees.

She smiles weakly at him and her hand rises to brush along his jaw. "You know you really are the sweetest thing, one big ol'softy."

Daryl smiles. "See how soft I am once you let me get down to business, huh?"

"Daryl!" she admonishes him. "We were having a moment."

"Sugar, I meant being a hard ass cause you're getting up and into that shower. I don't want no more dilly dallying," he commands with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes. "Oh I fuckin' bet that's what you meant."

"Yeah, you better," Daryl chuckles.

Lupe sighs for a real long time. She nods to Daryl. "Alright, fuck it, help me take off my pants. Let's get this over with."

"That's what all the girls say…" Daryl shakes his head at her and she pokes his uninjured shoulder playfully as she laughs. He chuckles and gets to work helping her more than he really knows.


	38. Chapter 38

Lupe and Daryl retrieved her dad's truck from its spot without issue. She was ecstatic, because it was untouched and the Saviors hadn't even left one tiny little guard. That meant their efforts are focused elsewhere, which is currently good news for the Alexandrians. With the medicine Lupe and Alma scavenged, Denise is able to almost fully stock the Infirmary and help Carl heal.

It isn't long after that, disaster strikes. Maggie had been feeling off and on for a while. She thought it was all the stress with supplies and all the terrible people. Unfortunately, she collapsed one day while working. The medicine they've got isn't sufficient. The doctor isn't very familiar with pregnancies, especially not the possible emergent types. Everyone knows what their only option is. A trip to Hilltop is how they make sure Maggie and the baby survive.

Maggie's in the back of the RV laying in the bed with Glenn on one side and Barbacoa on the other. Rick's helping pack up some things for Glenn and Maggie in case they needed to stay. Carol offers to tag along since she'd never dream of not being there for Glenn and Maggie. Michonne, Enid, Daryl, and Lupe all volunteer to go for support, no matter what kind is needed.

Carl holds Judith as he approaches the RV and Rick turns to greet him. His brow raises. "You not coming with?" he asks, tone almost disappointed, but trying not to show it.

Carl looks at the RV longingly, but shakes his head. "Doubt some kid with a disfigured face is gonna make a great impression."

Rick looks stricken, stuck on words to tell his son that will prove no such thing is true. Thankfully Lupe is shoving a bag in the RV's side compartment.

"Carl, don't say things like that about yourself. You went through something seriously scary and you pulled through. You don't have to be perfectly okay with it or anything, but don't take on the responsibility of how others think. We love you and you should love yourself, because you deserve that." Her statement is politely admonishing and Carl looks bashful. Lupe's lip quirks into a smirk as she looks around. "Plus, we're letting Daryl come along and look at his face."

"What you say about me!?" Daryl snarls, coming from out of no where.

Carl guffaws as Lupe yelps and jumps up from her spot on the ground. She sprints around the back end where he and Judith stand. Daryl whips around after her hollerin'. Carl shakes his head and laughs with his dad. Rick puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

"She's right, son. I'm so sorry you got injured. You'll get to heal and I'm here for you, I love you." He nods tearfully at Carl and they both start sniffing and snuffling.

Lupe's head pops out from over the edge of the RV roof. "He's so right Carl. You're amazing and everyone knows that. A kid surviving through all this with a badass facial scar and one day the option of an eye-patch or tasteful half facial mask? Trust me, you'll have everyone breathless with admiration." Her head quirks to the side and her face goes slack, she pulls back over the edge of the RV and disappears.

Daryl comes stuttering to stop around the back end of the RV in a full oval. "Where'd the hell she go?" He looks around and then at Rick and Carl. They both just shrug. Daryl starts grumbling and goes back to working on the engine, shaking his head.

Lupe pops over the top again and winks at Carl and Rick.

Rick nods to her then turns to Carl. "We want you there. I want you there." He squeezes his son's shoulder. "But only if you feel like you're ready. We trust you."

Carl nods a few times with a weak smile on his face. "I'm ready dad."

Rick nods and goes back over to finish checking in with the rest of the group and Father Gabriel who's taking charge of the community. They're in the middle of some tactical conversations about escape routes and defense plans when Deanna, Reg, and Spencer approach him.

"Rick," Deanna starts, "if you have room, Reg and I would like to come to support Maggie. She's been there for us and we want to be there for her." Reg stands next to her and nods, his hand on her shoulder. She turns to motion to Spencer. "Spencer wants to stay and back up Gabriel."

Rick nods to the two who built up this place and let his group make it more. "I think Maggie would appreciate that. She could use someone not focused on the pregnancy. It might help her to try and stay looking towards the future."

"It's what I do best, make plans and imagine." Deanna winks at Rick and climbs into the RV with Reg at her back.

Father Gabriel and Spencer stand together talking. Spencer looks over to Rick with concern. "Rick, if the Saviors find us while you're gone…"

"You follow the plan." Rick nods to him and Gabriel.

Spencer sighs, tense and irritated. "Don't you think we should make a deal with them? Even just temporarily?"

Rick smiles. "You tell them to wait for me. I have just the right deal for'em." He turns away from Spencer's annoyance and climbs into the RV, checking to make sure everyone is there before he sits down at the driver's seat.

Daryl walks to the back and finds Lupe holding Maggie's hand with Barbacoa's head on top of the grasp. He chuckles and watches for a little bit as they lean in towards each other and murmur sweetly back and forth, not even noticing him.

Glenn shuffles up behind him, pausing at the same scene and smiling the same way Daryl is. He bumps Daryl and grins. "Beautiful to see, even with all the stress, right?"

Daryl nods. "Damn right."

"I don't know what I'd do without her," Glenn says in a barely restrained whimper.

Daryl wraps an arm around him and holds him tight. "We'll get her to the doc and check on the baby alright? They'll be okay." Glenn nods into him, staring at Maggie like she's the only thing left on this earth. It makes Daryl a little scared, because he feels that way when he looks at Lupe too. This world wouldn't be a good place anymore if she left it. Not for him.

Glenn nods and then goes to join his wife. Lupe happily switches places with him and joins Daryl.

"Sweet isn't it?" she mumbles and curves against his side.

Daryl nods, speechless cause she feels so good against him he doesn't want to let her go. He kisses the top of her head a little roughly and she giggles against him, his scruff rubbing into her scalp despite her growing hair.

"Wanna sit down?" she asks.

"Shit, if there's spots left. We're like Sardines in a can," he chuckles. "Bathrooms open," he quips. She pinches his arm till he hisses at her.

"Stop trying to make the bathroom happen!" she hisses back, buying into the joke. "This a white people thing? Is it like a kind of redneck custom? Am I missing some deeply cultural aspect of your people here?"

He twists his face in a half-hearted scowl. "Redneck custom…" he grumbles at her, equally incredulous and affectionate. He curls an arm around her head, like a hug and a headlock all at once. "You ass."

He smirks as he tugs her along with him and she laughs into his arm. They find a seat and Daryl pulls Lupe onto his lap without hesitation. She squirms uncomfortably on top of him and for a second he thinks he crossed some line. "You alright? I can find another seat —,"

"No…" she whimpers nervously at him, "I'm just not used to being on top of someone. I'm fat and people usually act like I'll crush everything. I like you, I just don't know how to feel about it. I haven't really done this."

Lupe's words are soft, but since they're all piled on top of each other, Carol hears. She leans in looking at Lupe with a smirk. "Daryl's a grown ass man, he can handle it. Don't you ever be afraid of being on top."

Michonne has her head leaning back against the window, sitting next to Carol. She laughs first and the tiny group ripples into held back peels of laughter until everyone looks at them strangely.

"Don't you say a fuckin' word!" Lupe warns the others as she's sputtering. She huffs and Daryl pulls her closer on his lap and kisses her shoulder nice and soft. She feels dainty all of the sudden and it's a rush of an emotion she's not quite used to. Lupe eventually loses her tension and really gets to feel comfortable in Daryl's arms. They drive a good long time like that.

"Ah shit," Rick snarls. The RV rolls to a stop. "Lupe, I need you to come take a peek at this."

They roll up very slowly and take their sweet time approaching an improvised road block. It consists of three big trucks.

"Eight men," Daryl huffs over her shoulder as she crouches next to Rick and tries to remain unseen. "They got a fuckin' hard on for the number eight or something?"

"They're so full of bull shit I'm sure they could justify it," Lupe replies. "The man with the mustache is Simon," she snarls with a vehement hatred, "he is 100% a nightmare and basically Negan's right hand man. I see Gary, Jack, and that might be Kevin. The other four are new, and young too."

"Can we get through?" Rick asks, a murderous implication trailing each word.

Lupe sighs. "We can…" She looks around at the group. "We have numbers, but we're down three. Do we want to risk a firefight?"

Rick grits his teeth and finally slows to a stop at a healthy distance away from the roadblock. He'd rather shout and draw walkers than catch a bullet. "Who's the man on the ground?"

Lupe sighs heavily, looking at the unrecognizable bleeding man rolling at Simon's feet. She shakes her head. "Probably a lesson to drive the point home. I don't know what he did, but this is his punishment. The Saviors want to show you what they can do to you."

"We doing this?" Carol asks and her voice is indicative of a reaping every one understands.

"No," Rick growls and shifts the RV into park. He stands up and grabs the guns, picking out some people to follow him out. "Lupe, Carl, Enid, stay inside, protect Maggie, Deanna, and Reg at all costs."

Everyone else follows Rick out. They have their guns in relaxed positions, appropriate for the apocalypse. Rick doesn't say a word as the group fans out in front of the RV.

"Howdy there folks, fancy meetin' you 'round these parts," Simon starts jabbing with his big smile that barely hides his true near-demonic cruelty. "What's yer business?"

"Gotta get somewhere." Rick pauses to look around. "What's yours?"

Simon's grin stretches. "We protect these parts." He scoffs. "Especially after several of our brothers went missing nearby. We sure are worried that it's not safe to be traveling around," his tone is sinister and highly suggestive as he speaks. "Where you headed?" Simon pantomimes interest.

Rick chuckles, "Now how is that your business?"

Simon's smile tightens, and from the RV Lupe can see the telltale signs of agitation rattling through him. He's not much different from the last time she saw him and she still has the urge to stomp on his neck until she drives it through the earth's crust.

"You want to use this road, but this road is the property of Negan," Simon chimes. He's about to open his mouth when Rick speaks again.

"Don't happen to see his name on it."

Everyone on the line stays still as stone. The group in the RV is giggling like mad and thankful the open back window doesn't let so much sound out as it does in.

The Saviors gathered all shift, aggressive and defensive. "Don't need his name on it. It's Negan's." Simon steps forward with a menacing stare. "The road is his." Another slow step. "The trees are his." Simon takes his last step and raises his arms, expansive and enthusiastic. "All this land belongs to Negan!" Simon scoffs. "Now I'm not sure who you think you are —,"

"Rick," he interrupts. He puts up a hand and swings his index finger in a lazy circle. "The name's Rick." Everyone starts getting back on the RV. "You let this Negan know we choose a different way."

As they got back on the RV one of the Saviors starts to spray paint an X on the man lying on the ground. Simon shouts, "No worries friend! There's plenty of ways to get to where you're going."

The RV thrums to life and they start the slow process of turning it around. Once the side faces the Saviors, Lupe sneaks into the bathroom during the kerfuffle of everyone getting back. As they start to drive away, she slips silently onto the roof and pulls out Alma's gun and takes aim. It's a hard angle as she lays pressed as flat as she can go behind the roof racks. She lets off her silent shot and it hits its mark. The man with the X twitches and instantly goes still. The Saviors start looking around, raising up their guns, but even when they look back at the RV slowly pulling away, they see nothing of the assailant.

Lupe grins when Simon kicks the now dead body and whirls around on his men, yelling at them to go search the woods. She crawls back towards the sun roof and climbs back in.


	39. Chapter 39

When Lupe comes out of the bathroom Rick is waiting for her while Reg drives. "Tell me what to expect. I imagine they're not gonna let us through on any road we take."

Lupe shakes her head. She pushes past him so she can go sit. Her legs still shake from seeing Simon. Rick takes a place across from her and everyone adjusts to listen. "They won't. I've heard of Negan doing this shit before, terrorizing communities that don't produce how he likes. He's all about production and scare tactics. He wants to make you think he's omnipotent." Lupe thinks hard as she chews on her lip. "I don't know if you can avoid him forever, but we certainly can try." She looks around. "Anyone got a map?"

Daryl grabs one and spreads it out on the small table Glenn puts up. "We got lots of routes, but not all of them are easy," Daryl says.

"Well, they're going to try and block everything they can, but they can't be everywhere at once. I also just took out one of their little ploys so whatever that was, is now off their list." Lupe stares at the winding lines. "You'll want to stay away from routes that take you on a long path with no divergence. Small back roads will probably have traps. The ones closer to any outposts will probably have a heavier guard. They will want to corner you into your last option and then they'll strike."

Her finger follows along paths that twist and turn, stopping at intersections and readjusting. "If you can stay close to turn offs you might be able to shake them for a while. But there is only one main road that leads to Hilltop, there's no options left after that. We can keep away from all their crap, but this is where you'll likely face Negan." She points to a bottleneck in the highway.

"They assume that you'll try to keep circumventing them, probably try to keep you under watch. They'll want to lure you into their traps, pop up, and keep you guessing. I say we roll for a little while then circle back to that spot they just blocked and go on through." She smiles halfway. "I ruffled Simon's feathers a bit. So he might not be on his top game." She shrugs. "Plus all that nose wiping he was doing makes me think he's still on the Oxy. I doubt he's doin' great."

"Oxy?" Deanna asks.

"Oxycontin. Or I mean, anything he can stuff up his nose really. I'd say he has a problem, but it's more of an asshole problem, the drugs just don't help. I know plenty of addicts who weren't pieces of shit like him." She snorts. "Anyway, Negan is going to want a show of force. Most of his men are going to be gathered to block you from Hilltop and that's where he will want to make his point."

Carol stares at her levelly. "What do we need to expect?"

"They're going to disarm you. They're going to take whatever they want." Lupe's voice gets a little reedy, "They're going to kill at least one of you." She looks around at them with grief shinning in her eyes, wondering who's face will be the last she sees of today. "I don't know what else to say except that if you need to get to Hilltop, you'll have to go through Negan and it will require some sort of sacrifice."

"You don't think we can avoid him no longer?" Daryl asks, chewing on his lip. He watches her hands shake until she clasps them under the table.

"No, I don't." Lupe shakes her head. "Once we established contact with Hilltop it's likely they caught wind of us anyway. They want control and they won't stop."

The silence becomes oppressive. it pains Lupe in ways she can't express, but she forced the words out anyway, "I can prepare you the best I can, but…" she swallows heavily, "I can't be there with you."

Everyone's heads snap to glare at her.

She pleads with them, "You have to understand, he might only kill one of you today if you face him." She grimaces and tears slide down her cheeks. "If I'm with you, he'll kill everyone here, return to Alexandria to do the same, and burn it to the ground, just to make me watch."

"Alright, alright, we see." Rick puts a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"I hate this! I hate him!" Lupe rasps, gripping her stomach. Daryl sits down next to her and pulls her into a hug that she leans right into. She curls against him and shudders. "He will egg you on in every way imaginable. He will try to break you right out of the gate. He will want to make you scared."

She blinks and pulls away from Daryl, her eyes wide. "Play his game." Everyone glares again and Lupe has to close her eyes against the onslaught of their stubborn disappointment. "Play the long game, because Negan doesn't. He's all about immediate gratification. He's not a bad strategist, but he's all about the show. He just does this shit because he's bored and likes the power, not because he needs things. There's plenty to go around. This is his bullshit, so let him wallow in it." She looks at Rick. "Play his game. Let him think you're truly scared, cause otherwise he is gonna push you to your absolute limit." She stares everyone down. "Then he'll push you past it just to watch you scream."

Daryl nods, though he wants nothing more than to rip Negan apart. He looks at Rick. "It's smart. He don't know what we know about him. We let him be the boogeyman, we find his weaknesses, and we send him back to hell where he belongs."

"What're you gonna do?" Rick asks Lupe.

She sighs and chews her lip. "Last time we went to Hilltop they had a lot of trees surrounding the main road. If Maggie agrees, we'll need to travel until dusk so I can use the darkness as cloaking. Just get me under a solid branch and I'll climb out and hide. I can take some guns with me, that way they don't get confiscated by the Saviors — and anything else you don't want taken. I can evade them well enough, I know their patterns in the woods by heart. They're not that smart, there's just a lot of them."

"What about Barbacoa?" Carl asks. "She'll try to kill them if they hurt us."

Lupe nodded. "Yeah, absolutely. She'll come with me. When you pause to let me off, I'll need you to angle the RV so we can let her out. She'll track me and help me stay safe." She watches everyone carefully. "Rick, if you feel like it's going to go further south than any of you can bear, I need a signal and I can try and help you fight from the woods."

"Enid should go with you," Carl spits out.

"What?" Enid fumes, "I'm not leaving Maggie!"

Carl grits his teeth and glares at her with his uncovered eye. "You know what they do to young girls. Please don't make me beg you. I just want you to be safe."

Lupe looks hard at Carl, carefully tucking back his fear. She looks to Enid who is incensed, but thoughtful. "He's right Enid. I —," Lupe swallows heavily, "I know exactly the type of people the Saviors are and Carl is right."

Enid looks furious for a moment, but she drops her head, nodding gently.

Lupe's grin is pained, but she tries to get her attention, "Plus I'll need help if we do have to attack and save everyone. You're great in the woods and so good at evasion. I'll need you out there." Enid looks at her and nods, her small smirk curling into place despite her agitation.

Lupe looks back at Rick. "But if you try to show Negan you're cowed, it's possible he'll not kill anyone. Unlikely, but possible. He doesn't care about lives, but he does care about resources. Make him believe you're useful. Make him believe he has power. It's all he wants anyway." She flits her hand to brush away the thoughts. "We don't have the people we need to face off with him right now, but we will. You're smarter than him Rick. You're a better leader too, by fuckin' far. So you'll get him, but it has to be done right."

Rick nods and sets off to talk to Reg about the route. In a short while they stutter to a pause and turn down a side road. Going back, they find that the roadblock is gone and the path is now abandoned.

Lupe sits in the back with a sleeping Maggie. She watches the pregnant woman rest, finally breathing easy enough to do so. All Lupe can think about is the nightmare that's coming for. She hopes what she knows will help them stay alive.

Daryl comes to sit next to her and she quakes as he nears. "Want me to go?"

She shakes her head and smiles up at him. He crawls down next to her and offers his hand. She slowly takes it and squeezes tight. "I thought you might be upset with me, trying to warn you off from a fight."

Daryl nods, his voice low, "I ain't happy we gotta kiss his ass, but you know what he is and I trust you, others trust you too. You want to protect us and this is the best option we have right now. He might think he's got us running, but he don't know we got one of the best on our team"

Lupe chuckles meekly at him.

"I mean it damnit," he insists, but it's still playful, "you're doing right by us. You can only prepare us so much for Negan's decisions. What he does tonight, it's not on you, alright?"

She grits her teeth and her voice comes out willowy between them, "I should have killed him. I should have killed him so many times."

"He was the way to save your sister." She cries softly when he says that, but he just pulls her closer. "You had to try to save her. I understand. We all do, cause we woulda done the same for our own. We are doing the same, we're risking him so Maggie can get the help she needs. I'm just sorry we gotta risk you too."

Lupe shook her head. "I'll be fine in the woods. Barbacoa and I will protect Enid. We'll be there to back you up."

"Don't get too close alright?" Daryl leans in and kisses her temple. "I need you safe."

"I need you safe too." She nuzzles into him and kisses his neck softly. "Make sure you come back to me, okay?"

"I will." Daryl replies and it's more an oath than anything he's ever said.


	40. Chapter 40

Reg calls out to Rick once they're on the last road to the Hilltop. They had been driving for a while. Unfortunately, there were a lot of Saviors. They managed to bypass a few roadblocks, had to turn back because of a few others, but they were still all safe and intact. Maggie is holding it together, but she's exhausted and over-stressed. Deanna and Enid are doing their best to comfort her while Rick, Daryl, Glenn, Michonne, and Carol all finish strategizing. Lupe is in the back, packing away as much she and Enid can realistically carry.

As the sun dies, it leaches red through the trees. Reg calls out to Rick one more time saying he thought he spotted a roadblock far off through the trees after the next bend in the road. They start slowing down and Rick pulls out binoculars to check. He calls out to Lupe and she strides towards the front, her eyes focusing on what Reg sees. She freezes about halfway.

The truck.

His big black truck.

"He there?" Daryl asks as he tries to hide the hatred in his tone.

Lupe swallows, her hands shaking and she refuses the binoculars. "That's his truck. His favorite one." Tears flood her vision. "He's there," her words quiver along with her.

Rick nods and turns to everyone. "Alright, let's get this over with so we can kill this asshole sooner, rather than later." They all start moving in accordance to their plans. Reg starts the RV and hugs the side of the road as they turn. They're plenty far away when Rick grabs Lupe's shoulder like a confidant and he looks deep into her eyes, "You ready for this?"

"No, and if I hear his voice and shoot him in the head on principle, you better be ready," she forcibly huffs out in a shaky chuckle.

Rick smiles at her with a pride he has to feel. He has to know that they can do this. He has to be strong enough to help them survive. He trusts Lupe to want to do that too. He squeezes her shoulder, "We'll be right behind you. Be safe out there, alright?"

"You too," she says with a sincerity she wasn't sure she still had. She grasps his hand and squeezes once. They separate and as Reg slows down, Lupe goes for the door, opening it as they crawl around the bend. She calls for Barbacoa and points her out the door. "Escondes." The dog hops out and lands in a trot, speeding out into the woods with the sun setting on her, turning her into an instant shadow. Lupe smiles and turns to find Enid behind her.

"You think we can do this?" she sniffles.

"We have to." Lupe grabs her hand and squeezes. Her breaths shudder out, but she looks at Enid and holds the stare. "I know better now, and I won't let them hurt you, not like they did Alma."

Enid's face scrunches up and she scoffs. "You didn't fail her. You know that, don't you?" She squeezes Lupe's hand back. "It wasn't your fault." Enid looks up at her and Lupe holds back her tears. "She'd be proud you're helping others. Especially to stop this asshole."

Lupe pulls her into a hug and squeezes tight before sending her off to the bathroom to get ready to go. She finds Daryl waiting for her, leaning on the wall and gnawing on his nail. She smiles as she approaches him and pulls the hand from his mouth so she can kiss him. It's slow and sweet and means everything in the world they may not get to have. Daryl doesn't want to let go. He wants to run out there with her and find a way to slit each and every one of the Saviors' throats. He knows how smart Lupe is. She survived this monster before. So he just holds her tight while they breathe some life back into one another.

The RV shudders to a stop at a respectable distance and Lupe and Enid are out of the sunlight and into the trees with little hassle. They both have two pistols and two rifles plus all their melee weapons and a bag of particulars no one wants in Negan's hands. Lupe and Enid wait in the trees as the sun fully sets and the RV chugs towards a certain doom. They shimmy their way down and bundle up together.

"They might send a few men down here to check for people fleeing, but their formations are shit and we have an early warning system," Lupe says. She warbles a careful whistle that sounds very similar to a bird. Barbacoa comes through the darkness, golden eyes glowing as she carefully manages the forest floor. They look back at the RV one last time before diving off into the forest to find safety and a better vantage point.

Lupe hears the first whistle floating back to her on the breeze and her heart squeezes to a pinpoint. They have to get through this. They have to create a future and it must be without Negan and the Saviors.

For those in the RV, it goes almost exactly as Lupe described to them. They are torn from the vehicle while it's ransacked by a bunch of laughing, faceless Saviors. They are roughed up a bit, and snarled at a lot, hearing curses and threats that would put almost anyone's hair on end. The group acts appropriately cowed, but they're all honestly a little bit afraid. They're wise to be.

They're grouped up and forced to kneel on the hard dirt of a clearing. They're surrounded by so many Saviors, the whistling coming from their lips sounds like it booms from a sub woofer. Cars and trucks point at them with their high beams on. The Alexandrians form a semi circle. Some are shaking, some are not. Everyone tries to remain still as the whistling ceases and the silence feels dead.

Simon stalks forward, his eyes too bright for the darkness as a smile spreads on his face. "Why hello there friends," he eyes each and every one of them on the ground as he speaks, "welcome to where you were going."

Rick grits his teeth and glares at the man in the blue shirt. "We can talk —,"

"We're done talking," Simon snarls and raises a gun, pointing it at Carl. "It's time to listen." He cocks back the hammer and everyone stills. The smile on his face spreads as he stalks over to Carl. The boy is nervous, but he doesn't blink at Simon. He just stares right up at him, glaring. Simon grins right back at the kid. "Oh, he's gonna like you." He flicks up Carl's hat, winks, and walks away.

The back of the big black truck finally clanks open. Standing near the back in the shadows is a darker silhouette. The footfalls that come forward, thunder in the stillness of the forest. Even from how far away they are, Lupe is shaking as she hides in the brush with Enid. The young girl grabs onto her hand and holds tight when the figure steps to the edge and finally jumps down.

With the lights of the trucks behind him, not many of the Alexandrians can make him entirely out. He's tall, broad shouldered, and he walks like he fucked the sun into existence himself. The headlights shut off behind him, but the ones at his sides, lighting up the kneeling throng, all remain. With that vibrant glow, they finally see a smile split his face.

Pretty much everyone kneeling is shaking now. There is somegenuine fear eating them up inside. Knowing the threat sometimes just makes it worse. It's a bit of gamble when it's this big.

Negan strolls forward, looking like he just dipped his dick in gold. "Pissin' our pants yet?"

The sound of his voice rolling out from the clearing makes Lupe cringe and shudder. She has to fight to stem a sob and a gag so severe, she needs to bite her hands. She wishes she could tear herself away from Enid and beat him to death with the bat on his shoulder. She's owed it by now.

"I bet we're gettin' real close," Negan croons, strolling across the line and trying to sop up their fear. He stops in the center, right in front of Rick and grins. "Let me guess, this little shitstain is Rick." He kneels down to catch Rick's shifty eyes and tilts his head with a bigger grin. "How's that different way treating you?"

When there is no response, Negan pats Rick on the face like a man always does, too hard. He gets up laughing and looking around at his gathered Saviors. "The thing is, I feel like you people have been trying to avoid me or somethin'. I feel like I should have spotted you all by now. So, tell me where you're from."

Someone kicks Rick in the spine and he falls to his face in the dirt. "Answer him!" a voice roars.

The Alexandrians all shift on their knees. Maggie is sobbing, sick, and in so much pain she can barely keep upright. Glenn clings to her even though the Saviors keep trying to push them apart. Daryl is down on his hands already, getting ready to pounce with a long tended hatred for this. His fingers dig in the dirt when Negan whirls on him and glares.

"Now don't you fucking move!" Negan roars as he storms over to Daryl with thumping boots.

Lupe stops shaking and a snarl forms on her lips. Her hands squeeze against the log they hide behind, bark scraping against her scars. She's kicked his ass before and she'll happily do it again. If Negan touches Daryl, she's not sure she can stop herself from the blood she'll spill. There's so many guns worn by so many Saviors that it doesn't matter which one she picks. Negan is in the center like a bullseye, and she wants to obliterate the entire target.

"Don't do it. I know that fuckin' look! I've seen it before." Negan smiles down at Daryl's snarling face and winks. "Was a hell of a lot cuter last time, but as we say, shit happens!"

Lupe shakes again because of Negan's statement. She sees the same ferocity in Daryl that she has while protecting her own. Negan likes that sort of fire. She hopes Daryl can contain it and keep himself alive. She needs him safe too.

Negan strolls back over to Rick whose climbing back to his knees nice and slow. Negan perks up Rick's face by using the knob end of his bat. "I only save the pointy end for the special ones." He looks over at the gathered women and winks at Carol, though she's doing her best to appear wildly distraught. He frowns. "Jesus, I hate the weepy ones." He shakes his head sadly. His gaze returns to Rick and narrows. "I don't think you know who you're dealing with yet, Rick the Prick." He smiles wide. "But I'm sure we'll all be up to speed shortly."

Negan walks across the line, staring out into the forest. Lupe cringes as he faces her, even though he can't see her hiding spot in the deep darkness. It cloaks her like an old friend. His smile is wide as he goes."Now I have a mighty strong suspicion that this group here knows something about all my missing men." He glints a wink toward Rick and smiles. "Y'all seem like the type." He strolls and simpers. "Now I want to know about what happened to my men, and if you answer, I won't have to kill any of your people."

"I— I don't —," Rick starts.

Negan whirls around and punches him in the face. "I wasn't done!" he roars. He straightens back up and adjusts his jacket, fiddling with the red scarf around his neck. He glares at all the faces gathered, watching him in tears, and grins. "Funny thing that," he chuckles darkly, "you can't escape evolution. You can't escape the new world order, Rick." He leans in close and his jaw is tight, a tension fueled by rage. "I am the new world order, you prick. And I'm finally here to collect the dues you've skipped out on." He carefully watches Rick's shaking, eyes wide and red rimmed as he frantically looks anywhere but at Negan's face. Negan smiles wide and nods. "I want your shit, Rick. You give it to me? I won't have to kill you and all your precious people."

"Th-the RV — it — it's stocked," Rick stammers just right, "take what you like," his voice is gruff with unshed tears, "please, just leave some for the sick —,"

"Oh you're making requests?" Negan guffaws. "Already?" He chuckles and swings himself around like he's still King Shit. "Oh Rick, don't tell me you're a needy one." Negan takes a quick look down the line, eyes squinting. "I really hate the needy ones."

Negan strides again. "Now, since we've established the balance of this new world order, I'll ask again..." He stops in front of Carl, "What happened to my men?"

There's still silence along the line. Lupe wishes she had the rocket launcher right then. If she would have known Negan would make his move during their journey, she definitely would have brought it. He'd make a delightful stain on the dirt.

Negan roars, "I want to know about my men!" He takes a wild swing with his bat, reeling it at Daryl with the intended force to kill.

Far away in the woods, Lupe's body scrambles on instinct to go to them, to protect the lives that truly saved hers. Enid has to scrambling on top of her to keep her in place and slam an extra hand over Lupe's mouth. Lupe is distraught, ready to kill, ready to die, and shaking wildly. She's probably more scared than the rest, so Enid holds her tight. Lupe dreams of getting lost in the woods, taking the Saviors out one, by one, by one. She craves to see their blood shine black in the moonlight. She has to stop what is coming. She knows.

Negan stops the bat a breath from Daryl's face and he doesn't flinch at all. Daryl's faced down shit like Negan all his life. He's gotten the shit kicked out of him by scarier people with worse weapons than a bat.

"Don't see no men," Daryl snarls. The bat floats above his head by an inch, like an axe ready to drop.

Negan is a breath away from his face, only the bat between them. He exhales in a near rasp, "Wow!" He chuckles darkly, trying to get deep in Daryl's hateful gaze. "You don't scare easy. I like that…"

He whips himself up with his bat and sets it on his shoulder, smiling. "Ballsy too. I'll let it slide, since you didn't flinch like a bitch and I respect that!" He walks back over to Rick. "So, since I feel I might be able to tolerate you all, you'll work for me now. Everything you have belongs to me. Everything you make belongs to me. Everything you look at belongs to me. Hell, whoever or whatever you fuck," he pauses at Michonne and smiles wide at the rage pouring off of her, "now belongs to me." He kneels in front Michonne and inspects her pretty face, slowly and with a careful appreciation. "Tell me Rick," he chuckles as Michonne leans away, held in place by a Savior at her back, "she yours?"

"You stay away from her!" Carl roars.

Negan does a double take and guffaws. "Gotta say, didn't expect the lungs on that kid, but whoa!" He stands and moves to hover over Carl. "That shit was menacing!" Carl glares with his uncovered eye and Negan smiles wide. He points his bat at Carl. "You look like a little Rick the Prick in the making. You his kid?"

"Yeah," Carl sasses, deliberately unimpressed, "I'm his kid."

Negan leans and looms. "Now this is really very simple, so even if you're stupid, I'm sure you'll understand it," he seethes with a flippant smile on his face, "I own your dad now. I own your mom, and the weepy friend, and the stone cold asshole over there who didn't flinch. I woulda guessed you were his kid, but he's too ugly to get anyone to fuck him."

He kneels so he can get in real close to Carl, staring right at the bandages on his face. "You might run into that, depending on what mincemeat is left over under there. So son…" he pauses for a good long while inspecting Carl's face. Negan leans closer and whispers, "How fucked up is it?" Carl maintains the glare and Negan grins. His eyes narrow. "So… bad? You even got an eye left?" Carl blinks and it's just enough time for his mask to waver. Negan bites his tongue to hold in his chuckle. His face pinches with the sinister smile and a worse question. "Can I see it?" Carl finally drops his glare and his lip trembles. Negan laughs. "Ah, come on kid! Don't be a pussy like your paw over here!"

"Stop this!" Deanna suddenly screams.

Negan's head slowly turns and grin forms just for Deanna. "I'd appreciate you keeping your old yap shut while I'm talking to my kid." His eyes flutter to Rick who grits his teeth hard at that. Negan chuckles as he stands up tall, leaving Carl to cry. Michonne is next to Carl, staring at him. Her face folds with tears and the love she has for him, all of him, is strong. She hopes he knows.

"Now, I know that this new world order is a big and nasty pill to swallow," Negan pauses in front of Deanna and taps her shoulder with his bat with each word, "but swallow it you most certainly will."

"We built our community." Deanna glares at him. "It's ours and we will protect it."

Negan's eyes go wide with a fanatical delight. "Oh, you built something alright. You settled over your little dominion," he continues, tone pedantic, "thinking you were safe. I get it, you thought you had something special. Well, you do, but the word is out…" His eyes flicker to the man next to her, white hair with glasses. He's crying so hard and staring at the woman so intently Negan doesn't think the guy's blinked.

Negan starts to grin and turns his razor sharp gaze back to Deanna. "You. Are. Not. Safe." His bat emphasizes each word just a little bit harder this time. He pulls it back to his shoulder and he lets them know he's serious by the demands he heaps on their backs. Even the way he threatens them is melodic. "I knock, you answer! I call, you come! I don't want to have to kill all you people. I wan't you to work for me." Negan grins down the line. "Can't do that if you're dead, can you?"

The old man squirms in the corner of his vision. When Negan looks back to the red-haired woman, her eyes are like a blaze ready to turn him to dust. There's something ice cold in him that wants to snuff it right out. He chuckles at her. "This is your way of life now. Your shit, belongs to me, and I get to decide to do whatever the fuck I want with it." He smiles at her. "The more you fight back, the harder it'll be. I can make the point clearer," he bites his lip as he looks her up and down, "but you understand that, don't you doll?" She's silent as a grave and he leans in, cupping his ear. "What? No answer? I thought you might have all of'em."

"Go to hell," Deanna snarls through a twisted smile as she shakes.

"Oh!" Negan laughs, "Oh, I love that fire!" He stalks around the empty space. "I bet this group is just full of it, huh?" Negan chuckles with his bat on his shoulder. "Problem is, I gotta snuff that shit out quick." He pauses in the center. His face is dark and grim. A mere reflection of the evil that sinks into his shadow. The bleak nothingness stretches across the dirt, writhing in the dust along with the death that trails him everywhere he goes.

"So now..." Negan smiles, but there is nothing good about it. "I'm gonna have to beat the holy hell out of one of you."


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> D:

The woods cry silently. The leaves are like hands over the mouth of a grieving wind. Sorrow rustles through the gaps in the darkness and it feels inescapable. Everyone in the group shudders and Rick is looking at Negan pleadingly. Not saying a word, he shakes his head with grit teeth.

Negan is swinging his bat lazily as he walks through the line, inspecting sobbing faces and getting a feel for their fear. He pauses in front of Carol, who is staring at his bat with wide eyes and quivering shoulders. He stretches it out, right under her chin, but doesn't touch Carol. "This here is Lucille," he waves it back and forth gently, "and She. Is. Awesome." He swings it away from under her nose so quickly she hears the wind whistle through the wire. Her nostrils twitch with the air it displaces. She shudders and Negan smiles.

He turns to the rest of the group and glides back towards Rick. "All this," he spreads his arms, gesturing to the Saviors, "it was to show you all exactly what we can do. And I intend to do exactly that. After I pick out which one of you deserves the honor of becoming the lesson." Negan starts his lazy walk through the line. He stops in front of Maggie and kneels down. His eyes barely even flicker towards Glenn who is shaking with rage at her side.

Maggie is pale and clammy. She shakes so much worse than everyone else. She grits her teeth as she kneels, her fingers clamp onto the material at her knees. The position puts pressure on her uterus and the pain is unimaginable. She has to fight to keep from doubling over, screaming in agony. The nausea broiling in her gut doesn't help.

"Jesus… The fuck is wrong with her?" Negan asks. "You look like shit!" he guffaws as he stands. "I should just put you out of your misery right now," he chuckles darkly and pulls back his bat.

Glenn is desperate to shield her. He makes the leap, spreading his arms to block her with a garbled noise in his throat that screams of hatred. A Savior knocks him down. They lift him back up by the hair and put a knife at his neck.

"No!" Maggie begs and it's a mixture of a sob, a scream, and a gag. "Stop it!" she wails at the Savior and tries to stand.

Negan reels back as his Saviors swarm the couple. His fingers are twitching at his chin, eyes wide with anger. "Nope!" he snaps, flitting his hand. He turns on Glenn with a roar, "That shit will not stand!"

"Don't," Glenn sobs through grit teeth, straining against his captors. As he squirms, the blade leaves small, bleeding cuts on his neck. That pain is negligent in comparison to the agony of seeing that monster even look at Maggie. "Don't!" Glenn screams at Negan, fighting harder, eyes gleaming in the darkness, murderous and wild.

Negan chuckles again, and it's a strained and angry sound. His wipes at his face and stares between Glenn and Maggie, smiling wide. "Alright, alright. No one try and do that again. No one!" he snarls. His smile splits and he chuckles, pointing at a sobbing Glenn. "First ones free, little man. It's an emotional moment, I get it!" He glares at Glenn and places his bat on Maggie's shoulder, rolling the barbed wire along the line of her. "Stay on the line, on your knees, or everyone dies."

The group is shaken, rattled to their core and they know that death is approaching for one of them. Negan revels in it. He enjoys watching them kneel and staring at him like he is Death incarnate. It's practically his lifeblood at this point. He pulls back his bat and places back on his shoulder.

Strolling back to Rick, his tone is serious, "Sucks, don't it? Not knowing shit." He glares. "Sort of like not knowing what happened to my men. It's a bit humbling and I do not like it," he snarls. "So, here we go…"

He grins wide at Rick. His bat swings lackadaisically as he toes down the line. He stops at Michonne and grins, pointing the bat at her face, "Eenie —,"

Carol, "Meenie —,"

Rick, "Miney —,"

Daryl, "Mo —,"

Carl, "Catch—,"

Deanna, he points at with emphasis, "A tiger—,"

Reg, "By—,"

Maggie, "The—,"

Glenn, "Toe —,"

Carl, "If —,"

Rick, "He Hollers —,"

Reg, "Let —,"

Glenn, "Him —,"

Michonne, "Go—,"

Carol, "Eenie —,"

Maggie, "Meenie —,"

Daryl, "Miney —,"

"Mo—," Lucille points. The sobbing face doesn't even look at the bat. Negan leans into the rage coursing through him and the power he feels. The shaking fear he sees in all their eyes as he passed them one by one is enough to drive him wild.

Negan smiles as he twirls his bat to warm up his wrists. "Anybody moves, any body says anything, cut the boy's other eye out and feed it to his father!" he chuckles heartily. "You can breathe. You can blink. You can cry," he croons, tilting his head with his grin. "Hell, you're all gonna be doing that anyway, right off the bat!"

Lucille moves like a flash coming from over Negan's head. It crashes down on a crying Reg and he crumples to his hands and knees. Deanna gets bespattered with chunks of the man she's loved for more than forty years. She is forced to watch her beloved Reg, her best friend, twitch and shudder uncontrollably, trying to remember how to move. There is a mangled dent in his exposed skull, a chunk of his scalp torn right off from the barbed wire. Blood pours out of Reg's convulsing mouth and into the dirt. Deanna gapes at his suffering, unable to do literally anything else. Her eyes water as the bat slams down on him again and he falls flat into the earth and stops moving.

But Negan doesn't stop. The gathered crowd is shocked into silence. The hard and wet thumps of the bat crushing through bone and brain matter are oppressive. His swings splatter the people around Reg's unmoving corpse with viscera. Negan beats the skull into nothing, and he doesn't stop until he feels the soft earth give beneath his bat. He pulls back with a flourish, his bat an arc of red, with clumps of skin and hair still attached. His chest heaves and his eyes are wild with delight. He chuckles deeply, tongue bit between his teeth.

"What?" Negan huffs and strolls with a disjointed step. He kneels next to Rick, adjacent to what was once Reg. They are both covered in his gore. "'Right off the bat'?" Negan raises and wiggles the instrument of death, stained and sticky with blood and chunks. His smile it too genuine as he asks, "The joke that bad?"

Rick is shaking hard, his teeth grit and grind. He doesn't know what to do. He remembers what Lupe said, but he did not adequately prepare himself. In the face of such senseless brutality, something feral inside Rick uncurls. His eyes are red rimmed, but there's a snarl forming on his lips. He glares at Negan and knows he must be stopped. THe hears a shuddering gasp at his side, and looks over.

Deanna is painted red with the love of her life. Pale beneath it, quivering uselessly, tears stream down her still cheeks. She slowly turns to look at Rick, but her eyes are clear and burning with cool and calculated rage. Her head shakes at him infinitesimally and Rick's face goes slack. She looks up at Negan as she steals the snarl from Rick's lips. "You're pathetic," she snaps, each syllable hitting with derision.

In the trees Lupe and Enid find it hard not to gasp. Lupe knows exactly what the woman is trying to do, and she is powerless to stop it. They witness Deanna and her blood stained defiance.

Negan turns on Deanna, his head shaking as an angry smile forms on his face. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Even from her knees, Deanna stares him down with the lambasting ferocity of a grieving mother and wife. She and delivers her verdict and her voice doesn't waver once, "You are a weak and pathetic man and you will die! We will be there to see it! To ensure it happens!" She snarls fast and loud, "It doesn't matter what it takes! We will drive the likes you, spineless and worthless, from this world and make something better!" Negan's eyes widen, but she doesn't stop. Deanna nearly screams and it awakens the entire forest, life wailing along with her, "WE WILL DESTROY YOU!"

The crack that sounds echoes into the forest on the tails of her last words. Negan stands above Deanna's prone body. For a moment, with her bright hair soaked in blood, he doesn't see her there. In just a blink, he saw someone else glaring at him with hatred so deep it scorched his bones. Black hair flashes over red. The stench of blood wafts him back to where Deanna's head is a mess of brain and splintered bone. His chest heaves, staring down at the body, twitching into someone who isn't there, who can't be. Negan grips his bat tighter and a deep, ruthless growl forms in his chest as he raises it back up.

The group is stunned. By Deanna's actions and by Negan's. Silent, shaking, and breathless, they can only watch Deanna lay in the dirt. She hit hard on the ground because of the force of Negan's blow, but she landed facing Reg's body. Despite her inability to truly control her limbs, Deana's hand still flutters as she reaches out towards his corpse. A small smile forms on her face when she grips Reg's cold fingers. She's home and away all at once. Her eyes close, but the smile remains. She doesn't even care about the second strike or any of the subsequent ones fueled by Negan's impotency. She's ready to save her people.

Negan huffs hard after finishing her off. He paces and snarls, "Goddamn I hate hurting women and children!" He wheels on Rick and points the bloody bat in his face. "You seem to have an authority problem Rick. You should be glad I just saved your ass! She wanted an insurrection! She wanted to put your people — your son — in danger! You want that too?" He storms over to Carl and raises the bat over his head. "DO YOU!?" he roars.

"No!" Rick wails, shaking with his son at Negan's feet. "No, please…"

"Please?" Negan laughs and swings his bat around, flicking blood and matter across the gathered group. "Oh Rick, 'pleases' get nothing done in this world." He walks through the kneeling crowd, grinning like mad. "These fine people, joined together until death they do part, they just saved this whole group from being torn to shreds." He smiles at Rick, but it's an empty frenzied thing. "I'm missing eight men Rick! I gotta get my pound of flesh!" he growls.

Negan gets distracted, a giggle bubbles deep in his gut. "Guys," he holds his bat at his hips and leans into her, "would you look at my dirty girl?" He strolls over to Carol with tears on her twitching cheeks. "Take a look, doll. Look at your salvation."

Carol's eyes are glazed over. All she hears are Deanna's words echoing in her head, over and over. She thinks of Lupe and Enid in the trees. All Carol wants is to strangle this man to death with his own ridiculous ascot. But she doesn't move, she doesn't look at the bat, she stares at the dirt and lets every tear be a new way he dies.

Negan chuckles and walks away from her. "Now…" He stops in front of Maggie and points his bloodied bat at her. She gags, body bending forward and trying to eject the nothing in her stomach because of the smell. "Aww, don't be such a pussy darlin'." He wiggles his bat in front of her more. Glenn is back to writhing in the grip of the Saviors after he scrambled after her. Negan swings Lucille around, fast and one handed, right above Maggie as she heaves. Glenn screams. The barrel of the bat only narrowly misses Maggie's down-turned head.

Negan laughs. "What little man? I was just gonna point y'all in the right direction of where the sick will receive care." His bat is angled behind them, pointing towards Hilltop on the backswing. He saunters away from Maggie and stands in front of his truck. "And out of the goodness of our hearts, the Saviors and I are gonna give you a full escort." He looks at Rick and smiles. "Then, you're gonna take us back to where you call home." Negan turns his back on the group and roars, "Clear out!"

The Saviors swarm to pick up their captives. People are separated and shoved in trucks. The RV sports more Saviors than Alexandrians. Both Daryl and Glenn end up roughed up and cuffed in the back of the truck. The same big black beast Negan escorted Maggie to, so she could ride with him.

No one noticed the three shadows sprinting in the direction of Alexandria.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alright you gotta let me know what you think...


	42. Chapter 42

Lupe, Enid, and Barbacoa bolt through the trees as soon as the Saviors are packed up and moving. Guided by the dog and the moonlight, it takes them most of the night to reach Alexandria. When they come stumbling towards the gates closing in on sunrise, Abraham sees them and the way he shouts sounds like he's calling in the national guard. The gate is opened and several people swarm around them, holding out water and food. Enid and Lupe take it gratefully, trying to talk, heave, breath, drink, and eat, all at the same time. They'd been running for hours.

"Alright, slow down, we don't want any of you getting sick." Abraham pats Barbacoa on the side as she inhales water noisily. He eyes the two humans warily, strapped and dirty as they are. "What happened?"

"Negan..." Lupe gasps in air. "Negan put up roadblocks and cornered us in. I helped everyone avoid him as long as possible, but we eventually had to take the straight shot to Hilltop." She looks around and then leans towards Eric, Aaron, Abraham, Sasha, and Gabriel, whispering, "He bludgeoned Reg and Deanna to death right in front of everyone." She shakes her head and looks at Enid whose eyes are still so wide and full of tears, Lupe wants to scream for her. "He escorted the rest to Hilltop and they're coming back here, right now."

"Ah, tits," Abraham snarls.

Sasha sighs. "How many are headed here?"

"Can we fight?" Aaron asks.

Lupe shakes her head. "No, bad idea. He's got a gigantic squad with him today, probably two for one with Alexandrians at the very least, all heavily armed." She pauses to stare at them carefully. "I told Rick this and he listened," she shudders out a breath, "we have to play Negan's game."

Abraham and Sasha both scoff. Both ruffled, riled, and ready for a fight. The rest stare at her in distinct disbelief that their leader would do such a thing.

"Please…" Enid mutters, still huffing breaths through her shaking, "Please listen." As the others turn to listen to her she looks between them frantically. "You weren't there. You don't know. We have to do this. We have to play the long con."

Abraham brushes his beard with his fingers and huffs, "Goddamnit. I ain't good at that kinda shit."

Lupe grins emptily. "Neither was I, but with Negan it's sink or swim. We kiss his ass and make a fucking plan."

Eric nods his head and looks to Abraham, to everyone. "We gotta do this to protect the community, just for right now."

"How can we help?" Gabriel asks.

"Everyone just try to be themselves and watch out for each other. Toe the line, reduce the sass, act cowed. Negan is a fussy little baby and throws tantrums when he doesn't get his way." Lupe gulps. "Problem is, his tantrums usually cause someone's death, dismemberment, or disfigurement." She eyes everyone carefully, "I am not even in the realm of fucking around about this."

Abraham's hard eyes scan her. They eventually soften and he chuckles. He starts to stand and reaches out a hand for Lupe as Sasha helps Enid up. After Abraham just about throws Lupe to her feet, he smiles wide. "We know you know what you're doing. What we should be ready for?"

She nods hard and grins back shakily at his enthusiasm. "You guys just play your roles and follow Rick's lead. Get to the rest of the community and tell them the team radioed back about Negan and they are to stay in line or risk our people. The Saviors are going to take our stuff and try and rough everyone up, scare us, make us think we're helpless. Let the Alexandrians know they need to be on their best behavior." Her eyes go a little glassy, she motions to Sasha and Abraham and they follow her for an aside as the others care for Enid. Her face curls up in a mixture of sorrow and disdain, but she begs them, "No one can know who I really am except the people who already do. I can exist here as Lupe, but I can't be seen, and I should absolutely not be talked about. He will kill everyone."

"Nuff fuckin' said," Abraham grumbles. "What're you gonna do?"

Lupe scowls off into the distance, her thoughts racing. "He's going to come and think he can take whatever he pleases, but I'm not going to let him," she snarls.

"What do you mean?" Sasha asks with a hard tone.

Lupe looks up at her and grins. "Don't you worry about it." She huffs and scowls. "Better yet, the less you know the better. Get Enid safe, me and Barbacoa have to disappear."

Lupe is off like a shot without acknowledging the people she just left in her dust. She runs to the infirmary first. She wakes up Tara and Denise, mostly on accident, as she shoves medications and medical supplies into her duffel bag. She quickly relays to them what is happening and what she's doing and they jump in to help. Knowing Olivia is with Judith for the time being, Lupe heads to the inventory house right after. She starts packing some important food items away. With the ledger in her hand, she carefully recalculates the amount in their stores. She goes back in previous weeks instead of changing everything right at the front, like Denise showed her. Lupe carries each load into her truck that she has hidden outside the gates, nice and deep in the woods.

She's in the Armory with the last duffel full of guns. She double checks the ledger and makes sure she's right. She realizes two pistols are missing outside of the ones she took. The shouts from the gates reach Lupe's ears and she's out of the Armory, red bandanna around her neck, and sprinting her way towards her house. She cut it too close and the Saviors have arrived. She's happy she got some of Alexandria's supplies cleared, but she's unsure if she can make it out with the last of the guns. She knows she has to try.

The rumbling beneath her feet goes all the way up to her throat, almost taking out her knees on the way. Her stomach writhes, but she can't stop moving. She can't stop now. She can't let him find her. She can't ever go back. She gets about as far as Rick's house when she hears the banging on the gates, three distinct clangs. She sprints around the side and with the bag on her back, she grabs the trellis and puts her foot up.

"Little pig, little pig, let me come in!"

She's shaking, but she moves so fast her atoms feel like they're blurring into the air to get away from the sound of him. Once she's almost on the roof she looks down to see Barbacoa up on her hind legs, front feet on the lattice, wagging her tail. The gate screeches open.

"¡Escondes!" Lupe whispers harshly and the dog sprints off. Lupe clambers up onto the roof, finally grateful all these McManshions have such weird fucking builds. She lays flat and tucks herself and the bag of guns beneath her jacket. She is blocked from view and blends in well enough with the roof, so she stays there until she hears the RV and trucks rumbling on behind them. She fails to hold back her tears.

Negan drives in his big black truck and gets out, strolling into the main entrance of the town. "Holy shit! Look at this Leave it to Beaver fantasy land!" He turns on Rick as he approaches with the rest of the group, two bodies wrapped haphazardly in a tarp being carried between them. "I can see why y'all are a secretive little bunch. Now Rick and —," he snaps his fingers at the group, "the dirty one with a face like a bulldog?"

"Daryl," Simon mutters from his side.

"Fuck! That is one hick-ass name!" Negan laughs and elbows a grinning Simon. He looks over to his chosen ones and smiles wide. "Come along now, dump those corpses and give me a tour!"

Rick and Daryl look back to the rest of the people from the RV. Maggie and Glenn had remained in Hilltop. Carol, Michonne, and Carl are tired, bedraggled, and shaking with adrenaline, hatred, and fear. Each one nods carefully, and the two men let go to join Negan. Others step in to help the remaining travelers with the bodies.

As Negan takes a step forward a black blur shoots past him and out the gate so fast he actually pulls a gun on it. "What in the shit was that!?" he laughs, almost nervously. He looks back at Rick, Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham.

Abraham glares at him. Sasha replies stone faced, "Our dog."

Negan's eyes go wide. "You got a dog!?" He laughs and claps. "Jesus fuck, this place…" He turns back to the houses, grinning. "I might just need a summer home here." He winks as he passes Rick. The Alexandrians start coming out of their houses, appropriately meek and scared. Negan throws up a hand and shouts a hearty, "Howdy neighbor!" and keeps walking. "Rick! Daryl! Keep your asses up!" he snarls over his shoulder.

"Gonna be a long ass day," Daryl says looking at Rick.

Rick nods back. "Probably gonna be a long few months."

Daryl sighs and scans the crowd. He knows he won't see Lupe, she's too smart for that. He just hopes they had enough time to get safe. The faces he passes are stern and scared, but not entirely questioning. Then he sees Enid with Aaron and Eric. They're holding her tight and she looks taken care of. He can see that she's freshly showered and has on new clothes. Her eyes are red rimmed though. He frowns at her with a soft question. She nods at him and mouths the word 'safe.' He nods back and follows Rick.

Once they join Negan, side to side, Negan shoves his bat at Rick and orders him to hold it. Rick does as he's told and hides his emotions in the grip he squeezes around the handle. "Now boys this place is magnificent. An embarrassment of riches. Y'all build this up one your own?" Negan asks.

Rick shakes his head softly, looking away. "Reg and Deanna."

"The ones you killed," Daryl snarls.

Negan stops and looks at Daryl hard. "See I can't tell if you always sound like a mean asshole or you're just being a real shit to me."

"Guess'll never know," Daryl grumbles.

Negan grins. "I'm starting to like you Daryl. Ya'got spunk!" He reaches out his hand for his bat and has to wiggle his fingers for Rick to hand it to him. He swings up the barbed wire end and tucks it on Daryl's shoulder and neck. "But Lucille doesn't like your attitude. She finds it disrespectful." His face goes hard and his tone is deep and cruel as he leans in, "I had eight men go missing and there's still six slots for bodies to fill our grief. Do. Not. Test. Me."

Pulling back the bat and turning away, he shouts, "Let's get this show on the road! Show me all the goodies you got for me." He takes a few steps and says, "Arat, fill the trucks!"

"We can help you split the supplies —,"

"No!" Negan growls and it turns into a chuckle, "You don't get to choose what I take, Rick." He shakes his head and looks over his shoulder. "We do." He winks. "Arat!"

Arat comes forward from the group, and starts walking. She pauses only to look around at the Saviors surrounding her that haven't moved. She rolls her eyes. "You heard the man!" she snarls, "Move out!"

Lupe has to put a hand over her mouth. Pure elation fills her knowing Arat is okay. Her heart breaks that she's still with the Saviors after all this time, but that means her mother is still alive. Lupe's tears break and a smile shines through thinking about Arat and Dolores. They were so sweet to Alma, to Lupe herself. She's grieving all over again and she can barely move or breathe.

Like an oil spill choking the beach, the Saviors bleed into the town. They shove their way into houses. Negan is rubbing his hands together as he glances back at Rick. "They're gonna search all the houses for me. The process is efficient, don't you worry." He starts walking away again and shouts, "You gonna show me around or not? I'm starting to think this place may be paradise, but your manners could use a brush up! Let's go!"

As Negan starts moving, so does Lupe finally start to function. She knows she's good on the roof for a little while. The Saviors aren't thorough enough to check up there and there aren't any sight lines from other houses. If they get up on the guard towers, she might have some trouble, but so far, the towers are empty. So she just waits and tries to think. It's difficult. His voice can be heard from everywhere and it causes her to blank out, awash with fear and memories.

As Saviors start emptying houses, they carry out desirable items and chuck others onto the street through windows and doors. The Alexandrians look at their leader who remains stricken. They huddle together nervously, watching as their lives are uprooted. Negan strolls around with Rick and Daryl on his heels, whistling Dixie and having a good old time.

"Rick, I'd very much like to see your armory." He grins over his shoulder. Rick obliges, but not prettily like Negan wants. He hopes the ass kissing comes soon, because Rick and Daryl are morose and bring his shit down. "Then the pantry…" He keeps strolling, waving at terrified Alexandrians like they're all at the fair. He turns to face Rick and leans in. "Then, your houses, cause you two," he wiggles a leather clad finger between them, "I have a feeling you're trouble. And I prefer heart felt cooperation in our dealings," he grins, "so until then, I'll have to keep my eyes on you. Once you get to know us, once you get to know our rules, the Saviors really are just honest, reasonable people." He chuckles and turns away.

"Negan!" A voice shouts.

He whips around to see one of his Saviors carrying out a video camera. "What's this?" He takes it in his hands. "God I would kill for some amateur porn!" He laughs and flicks it on.

Rick exhales harshly as he sees Deanna's face. She's walking around the community and explaining each part thoroughly.

"Whoa! So she really was the one who created this place? Wow! Shame to see her go. She did a great job!" Negan snaps the camera shut and looks at his man. "Find anything else?"

"No, it looks like the recordings stopped several months ago. We only found the welcome wagon tapes and maps for expansions. Shit like that," he replies.

Negan pouts. "Well, damn…" He tosses the video camera over his shoulder and it clatters to pieces on the ground. Rick and Daryl share a confused look, but slap up a fresh wall of stoic when Negan turns to them. "Armory, fellas?"

Rick nods, indicating that Negan should keep moving forward. "Last house on the left."

Negan winks and then makes his way over. He strolls in and slides the doors open, finding Carol standing there with the ledger open, frowning. "Well looky here! My girl!"

Carol instantly turns on her trembling facade and snaps the inventory book closed in a shock. "I-I'm sorry," she meeks out, "y-y-you—you surprised me."

"Well, I like surprises." Negan cozies up next to her.

Carol does her best not to shove one of the pistols in his grinning face and pull the trigger.

Negan inhales, smiling sweetly. "But only on special occasions, so why don't you hand me over that book and let me take a look-see."

She does as she is told. As he reads, she directs her blinking, tearful gaze on Rick. She stares at him for a long time, but he eventually gets the point and looks around the room. His eyes go wide till they land back on Carol and she nods her head. Just a little more than half of their original supply is missing. Most of the high powered rifles are gone, the rocket launcher is gone, and what remains are some old shot guns, small pistols, a few bolt action rifles and half of the ammo that goes with them. Rick and Daryl sew up the shock they feel with impassivity on their faces.

"You guys run it pretty slim." Negan chuckles. "For what you have behind these walls, I would have expected an arsenal."

"We do what we can," Carol lets it all shake out, "A-a-a lot of us aren't very good with guns, and bullets are so hard to find."

Negan looks at her and sops up Carol's quivering and whining. He kind of likes her. Terrified, but not afraid to talk to him. She's just a hair older than what he usually partakes, mid twenties to thirties, but he'd take her if she wanted. He still has too many open rooms and one that he won't fill on principle. "No? And what's your name again doll?"

"C-C-Carol," she whimpers, trembling violently as he leans in.

"I like you Carol, you're honest." He laughs sweetly. "Problem is, it looks like your short two guns."

Carol almost instantly sobers, her word biting and shocked, "What?"

Negan gives her a weird look until she starts shaking again and Rick interjects. "We don't have many. Someone might have taken'em out hunting and forgot to return it."

Negan quickly turns to Rick and snarls, "Rick, the fact that someone is misplacing my guns makes me very irritable. I'm concerned about the respect for responsibility in this here community. We have to care for our guns!" He snaps the ledger shut and slams it against Rick's chest. "Find the guns or I'll put a bullet in Carol's brain." Carol supplies a nice weep as she crumbles to the side. Daryl goes to help her and makes her put back the gun she grabbed. Negan's too busy glaring at Rick to see it.

Rick watches their very slick exchange. He's unnerved, but he has an idea of where to look. He knows of someone who's stolen stuff before. Carol found him trying to smuggle out food and alcohol several times. Rick sighs and nods to Negan. "We'll find them." He looks to Daryl and then to Carol. "Let's go."

Carol goes to move, but Negan grabs onto her arm and tugs her back close. She makes a garbled noise as she hits his side, but blinks at Rick nice and slow to show she'll be fine. Negan is just like Ed, just like the rest of the abusers in this world. He may think he's slick, but Carol knows he's rotten, head to toe, from the inside out. When people rot, they get careless, and she's ready for that moment.


	43. Chapter 43

Rick and Daryl go off in a dash, so Negan leans into Carol and smiles. "Looks like it's your turn to show me around. Hope you can do me better than those jackholes. How about the pantry, you know where that is?" She gives him a terrified little head bob and he smiles at her. "Don't worry darlin' I'm sure they'll find those guns. And maybe I won't kill you. Maybe I'll just take you back with me. How's that sound?"

Carol does her best not to laugh in his face. She'd spoon out his eyes in the middle of the night, feed them to him, and level the compound. She looks up at him with tears spilling down her cheeks. "I'd be happy to do anything to help," her voice cracks, but she allows her face feign regret at having to turn down his idea, "but I-I hope they find the guns, only because there's people here I take care of. The elderly, some young ones without parents." She crinkles up her face and starts to cry. "I just don't want them to be alone."

"Awww darlin' don't cry." Negan chuckles as he hefts her to his side and Carol has to stop herself from ripping away. "We'll take good care of you. You're all saved now!" He winks and lets her guide him through the house. "You have a husband Carol?"

"No-no, he passed," she sniffles and shakes her head, forcing out more tears.

Negan squeezes her tighter as they walk down to the hall. "Oh Carol, you are just burning me up inside! I love me some widows. After their husbands go they're just empty inside." He laughs as he slides his arm down her waist and grips her hip. Leaning in, he croons into her ear, "But usually not for long." He chuckles wretchedly and Carol is about ready to scream.

"Welcome," a voice chimes behind them.

Negan whips around, letting go of Carol. The door to the house is open and a single figure stands, backlit by the morning sun. They step forward and it's a man in a full priest get up. "Holy shit! And I do mean Holy shit!" He laughs and shakes a finger at Father Gabriel. "Shit to fuck Father, you need a bell around your neck."

"My apologies," Gabriel replies. "I heard you wanted to see the armory and the pantry, so I've come to help in whatever way I can."

"Fuck…" Negan wipes a hand down his face. Negan jeers at him, "No! Get the fuck out of here. I don't believe in God and I'm surprised any of you do either." He flits his hands at Father Gabriel who nods, and gives a short look at Carol. She's behind Negan so she signals to Gabriel that she'll be okay and he leaves. "Fucking cockblock!" Negan spits and then turns back to Carol, offering an arm, "Now where were we?"

Carol takes his offering with quaking hands and stands next to him. "The pantry, sir."

"Sir!?" Negan beams. "Oh jeez Carol, you sure you can't just fudge on all those responsibilities?"

She pretends to act flattered, but shakes her head softly. "Not right now, they need me."

"Shit woman, I am starting to need you too," he chuckles and pats her hand.

Lupe hears their chatter carrying over the air when they open the garage door. She sighs shakily. She's far beyond impressed with Carol. Lupe never had an ounce of self control in situations with men like Negan, not after the end of the world at least. Before, at least she got paid fucking bank for it.

Carol looks around the pantry and successfully hides her smile. Almost half of their most important food stores have been taken. She moves away from Negan to grab the ledger, but also sends out a silent thank you to Lupe for her quick thinking. She turns and hands the book to Negan.

"So this is why you're such a skinny-mini?" Negan strolls around the sparse shelves. "How have you people survived?"

Carol remembers being on the road and eating bark. She knows what it really means to survive, and peoples' sizes never mattered. She clears her throat, her voice still meek, "It's been lean. We had some attacks from violent strangers, things got stolen or ruined," she sniffles and her face pinches, "we lost so much and we're trying hard to recover." She calms through a ragged breath. "Thankfully we have a few hunters and fishers, so we haven't slipped into times too rough just yet."

"Yeah…" Negan stares at the ledger, but he doesn't seem like he really sees it. "The last few months have been difficult for us all. Lots of losses," his voice sounds different, maybe even genuine. He stares at the pages for a good long while. Carol can see the cracks forming in him. She thinks back and remembers when they found Lupe, only months ago. A small beam of pride becomes kindling in her chest. Lupe was enough to somehow bring this tyrant to his knees, even if just for a while.

"Did you lose someone?" Carol's question is pointed and she wants it to be. She dares to push him, because she's just like that.

Negan snaps the ledger shut and sighs hard. The fake smile blooms. "We've all lost someones, haven't we?" He wraps her up again and takes her out from the pantry through the garage door. In the streets, Saviors carry mattresses out to their trucks. "Now sweetie, why don't you point me in the direction of Rick's house."

Carol guides him there, watching the people watching them. She's not sure exactly what she can do at this point with Negan hanging on her like a vine. She wants to kill him for what he's done to their community. She was never a fan of Deanna or her people, ignorant as they were, but some tried, some learned. Carol wants to kill Negan solely for what he'd done to Lupe, but she can't, not right now. Her smile tenses at the faces around her, trying to keep them calm. They recognize it for what it is.

They reach Rick's house and Michonne is on the front swing with Carl, snuggled up close. They watch and mourn as Saviors take more and more from their home. Judith is still with Olivia, as everyone wants her as far from Negan as possible. Unfortunately, one of the Saviors comes out with a box of the baby's toys and Carl jumps out of his seat, gun somehow in hand and pointing it at the Savior. "PUT THAT BACK!" he screams. Michonne is up and trying to calm him, but she feels the same.

The Savior sees Negan out on the street and just smiles. "Fuck you, kid," he snarls. He takes another step, but Carl puts the barrel against his head.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what do we have here?" Negan lets go of Carol to approach the porch. "What're you doing with another one of my guns young man? That's not one of the missing ones, is it?"

Carl doesn't move or blink, he just keeps the barrel pressed against the Saviors head. "No, it's mine, from my room. It was signed out."

"Hmm, but that still means its one of my guns." Negan grins.

Lupe is above them and she's gripping the shingles so tight she's afraid one might pop off. If she lets go though, she's going to be compelled to jump right off this roof and turn Negan into a smudge on the porch. She doesn't want to see Carl hurt. But nothing stops Negan from doing what he pleases.

"Carl, hand it over," Negan demands.

"No," Carl growls. "You should put back our stuff and leave." He clicks back the hammer of the gun in his hand. The Savior at the end of the barrel officially gets nervous.

"Negan —," the Savior tries.

"Shut up," Negan replies coldly and smiles over at Carl. "You're just a little serial killer in the making aren't you?" He slowly moves up the steps, boots thunking on the wood. Michonne is off to the side, but she's ready to tear Negan's heart out if he touches Carl. As Negan hits the top step, he grins. "Or are you already? How many people have you killed, young man?"

Carl presses the gun into the Savior's head harder and snarls, "More than enough."

Negan laughs. "Shit kid, you've got me quakin' in my boots." He steps closer on Carl's side and leans in with a growl, "Give me the fucking gun."

"Carl," Carol starts in her shaky voice from the street. "Come on now, baby." She walks up behind Negan and gently tugs on his jacket. "Please sir, he's just a kid."

Negan grins, but puts out his hand. "Give me the gun Carl and I won't put a bullet in Michonne's head."

Carl turns slightly, glaring at Negan. "We were better without you, happier without you. The rest of the world will be too."

Negan's eyes go wide with his guffaw. The journey his facial features take ranges from deeply amused to mind bogglingly pissed. "Excuse the fuck out my goddamn french, but did you just threaten me!?" he finishes with a snarl.

Carol is behind Negan and she strains her eyes at Carl. He blinks once and pulls the gun away. He flips his grip and slams it into Negan's chest as he walks by and leaves the house. Michonne quickly follows him.

Negan chuckles darkly and watches them pace away. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so lenient with all y'all." He tucks the gun in his pants and turns to Carol.

She's crying again and shaking, "He's so young. He's been through everything we have, and worse, as a child. It'll take time. We'll help him understand."

Negan nods to her. "You fuckin' better." He is about to turn go through Rick's front entrance when he spots a house across the street. The Saviors just rolled up the garage door and there's a high quality pool table inside. He claps his hands together and shouts, "Well, hot damn, my mood just improved! I love me some pool! Someone get me a drink!"

Negan strolls around the furnished garage, whiskey in his hand from the bar at the end. He's smiling wide at the table in front of him. "I don't know if we can fit it on this trip, but maybe I'll just stick it in my summer home here. You got any empty houses?" He looks to Carol.

She leans on a bar stool with an untouched drink in her hand. "A few. We were hoping to bring in more people and build up the community." She smiles halfway and shy. "We'd be happy for anyone who wanted to stay and help us continue our work."

Negan winks at her and gestures to the table. "You play?"

"Oh, no, I'm sorry, I don't," Carol laments.

Negan sidles up to her and grins. "I could teach ya."

Carol looks up at him with a quivering, tender smile and opens her mouth to reply.

"Hi, I, uh, — I'm sorry if I interrupted something."

Carol turns and Spencer's at the opening of the garage. She almost loses her cool, wanting to punch his slimy lights out, but she has to keep up the charade. Spencer is too self absorbed to ever see the difference in her. He only ever talked to the original Alexandrians and occasionally Rosita after a quick fuck.

He walks over with a too confident stride and reaches out his hand to Negan. "Hi, I'm Spencer Monroe."

Negan peels himself away from Carol and sets Spencer with a wily grin. "Spencer Monroe, that sounds like a porn star name."

Spencer barks out an easy laugh. "I suppose you might be right."

They shake hands like men. It's somehow a competition.

"You play?" Negan nods towards the table.

"I do." Spencer grins.

So does Negan. "Carol, pour this man a drink," he says, going to grab the pool cues.

Carol hands Spencer a drink, shoves it at him really. She goes to settle back on her seat, wishing it was turpentine.

As they approach the table, Spencer speaks, "You know I was hoping to speak with you privately, sir. I'd like to understand more about what you're trying to do. I'm worried some people here might not be able to adapt. I want to be there to help them."

Negan watches Spencer with a narrow eyed glare above his smirk. His head slowly swivels over to Carol who fake sips on her whiskey to hide her desire to shoot Spencer too. "Carol darling, why don't you go check on Rick and Daryl."

"Sure Negan." Carol smiles and puts down her drink. She goes to walk away, but Negan stretches out the pool cue to block her.

"Don't forget my favorite part now," he croons.

Carol allows herself a shy little wiggle before bashfully looking up at him, "Sir."

"There's a doll." He lets her pass and shudders in delight at her meekness. He turns back to Spencer. "You know, it's too nice a day to be cooped up inside this garage. I got an idea."


	44. Chapter 44

When Lupe hears Negan head over to the other house, she carefully climbs down the back trellis. The guns on her back are hefty, but she isn't about to leave them inside the gates for anyone to find. Even though most have stopped searching houses a while ago, some fuckshit Savior might get lucky. She couldn't have that. She carefully navigates through back yards and bushes. She ends up having to hide in her own home because a few Saviors decided to have a smoke right out back by the sewers. She chose her house, close to said sewers, for that very specific reason. So she's stuck in there for the time being.

She sits on the floor of one of the empty rooms of her house with her slingshot in her lap and the window open above her head. She doesn't want anyone to possibly see her or her shadow, but she needs to be able to hear what's happening and wait for the smoke smell go away. Once the smokers were gone, most Saviors would congregate at the front gate by the trucks or go to watch Negan play pool. Then she'd be free to get the fuck out of Dodge until the Saviors left.

She listens with glee as a bunch of Saviors struggle to lift the pool table that probably weighed several hundred pounds. They might have yelled and cussed at each other for fifteen straight minutes until they got it out on the street. It was a perfect distraction for her and such a delight to hear them suffer.

"I could never do this with Rick," Negan's voice carries over the air. It's so silent in the community, she hears the balls getting racked, clacking against each other and rattling as they settle. "He would just be standing there, fuckin' scowling," he scoffs, "giving me that annoying side eye he gives me."

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Spencer's voice is next. It sounds like a bad parody of his mother's. Who, despite being an actual career politician, wasn't all that bad in the end. She did work hard for her people. She sacrificed herself to save others. Now, her son licks the still wet blood of his parents off the boots of the man that killed them. "I want to talk to you about Rick."

Lupe sits up from against the wall at attention. She crawls closer to the window, but doesn't dare look out. She just wants to make sure she doesn't miss a word of this weasel's speech.

There's too long of a silence. Lupe worries until that sick reeling in her stomach returns at Negan's voice, "Alright… Talk while we play, my man Spence." Someone breaks the rack with a surprising force. Loud cracks and thumps hint at the speed of pool balls as they fling across the table. It's a distant thunder for the storm to come. Negan's voice sounds louder to Lupe than anything else. "Tell me all about Rick."

The game continues and Lupe grasps her sling shot against her chest. She doesn't know what feeling is creeping along inside of her, but it doesn't feel good one bit. She tried to prepare for the Saviors' arrival as much as she could. She took food, medicine, and guns to hide. She took all the information Rick had regarding Negan and the Saviors out of the Main House. She stole all the records Deanna took of Rick's group and a few others to make it look legit. She also removed her own account. Even if it wasn't linked to her directly, she didn't think Negan deserved to read the conversation that made her hopeful to stay.

"I understand what you're trying to do here," Spencer begins again and the clacking of the game goes along with him, "I can't say I agree with all your methods, but I respect that you're doing the hard work to help our communities survive." Another studious pause beats and Lupe has time to fully roll her eyes. "I can see what you're trying to build and I know it's for the greater good. You just want people to contribute."

Lupe wants to scream for an eternity, but forces herself to remain quiet. Her wails might be grandstanded anyway. The walls of Alexandria practically screech to accommodate the massive amount of bull shit coming from these two men opening their mouths near each other.

"But you should know, sir…" Lupe nods to Spencer with a disgusted appreciation. It's a nice touch that Negan comes all over himself about, every time. "Rick doesn't have a history of playing well with others."

"That so?" Negan's sentence is punctuated by another clack of the cue.

"Rick wasn't the original leader here. My mother was." He sounds insistent, he's building up confidence and momentum. "She was good at what she did and she kept all of our community safe for years until him and his group showed up."

"And your mom was?" Negan prods.

Lupe grimaces. That will be a sore subject. She's sure someone had to tell Spencer his parents were just delivered, dead, like, super dead, by the very man he was trying to fellatiate.

"Deanna Monroe."

She waits a beat and then hears Negan's condescension loud and clear.

"Oh, son…" There's a smile to his tone. "You do know that I killed her myself, right?"

There's a long pause before Spencer's warble of a response, "I do." He clears his throat and continues, "But I also know she cared about this community and its people more than anything else."

"Do you know she threatened to kill me?" Negan's voice cuts in. "You won't try to off me like mommy dearest wanted, will you Spencer?"

"I couldn't even try," he responds right away.

Lupe almost laughs. Spencer couldn't hit the broad side of a barn with a whole 'nother barn. So at least he isn't lying to himself about that.

"But I also know that Rick is more of a danger to the survivors of this community than you ever could be," Spencer finishes with a poorly hidden menace in his tone.

Negan's low chuckle rustles through the leaves and up into Lupe's window. She shivers violently against the sensation, almost like his lips are pressed up against her ear. She carefully thumps her head on the wall behind it and bites back her tears.

"How's that?" Negan asks, his tone way too sharp.

"His ego is out of control," Spencer insists, "and he'll find a way to screw things up. He'll try to do things his way, try and take over. That's what happened here. That's what will happen with you if you aren't careful."

"Careful?" Negan's reply is a playful snap. "Why 'careful' happens to be my middle name." There's a pause for the crackle of balls. "So tell me Spence, what are you proposing should be done about this conundrum?"

Spencer's voice almost automatically interjects, too confident, "I am my mother's son. I can be the leader she was," he pauses dramatically, "for you. That's what this place needs. It needs someone loyal to you."

The grumble of Negan's voice is hard to make out from Lupe's distance, but there's a threat beneath the unintelligible words. Eventually he speaks up again, "You know Spence, you've got me thinking here…"

Fuck. Lupe carefully adjusts herself and peeks out the corner of the window. The pool table is a little closer than she hoped, but the smoke smell is starting to dissipate. Spencer's back faces her and Negan's on the other side of the table, almost facing in her direction. A huge crowd has gathered around the display and their eyes are locked on him. She ducks back down and listens, breathing heavily and trying to prepare for what comes next. She knows.

"Now, I know Rick clearly hates my guts, and by the looks of the fine people surrounding us on this gorgeous day, most of them do too." The smile in his tone is heavy, but insincere. "But where is Rick?" There's a long beat of silence where no one answers. "Don't worry, I'll tell you," his charismatic tone is haunted with wrath, "He's out there scouring this neighborhood top to bottom, trying to find me some lost guns. Now, you don't have many in that armory, but the thing is, I want it all. And he's squeezing every little last drop of his pride out to do just that. So I don't have to kill our friend Carol." The clatter of the pool table sounds again and Negan continues. "He's swallowing all his hate to make sure I don't hurt anyone else. That takes guts!"

Lupe jumps when she hears something smack against the table. Negan's voice only makes her feel worse. "And where are you, Spence? Buttering me up? Licking my boots? Boy, I'm sure you're making your mom and pop proud right now, asking me to do your dirty work and take Rick out. Wow… just wow. Why haven't you just killed Rick and taken your blood-rite of a spot as leader? Huh?"

"No, I don't — I didn't mean —," Spender stammers.

"I have an idea why!" Negan's voice rings out.

Lupe shakes like a tuning fork. That's the tone Negan uses in the warehouse, when he pontificates and punishes people, reveling in the fear. That's the voice he uses when someone is about to suffer. She knows.

"It's because you," Negan's animated voice turns to a growl, "Got. No. Guts."

The screams eclipse whatever happened. Lupe writhes on the floor, trying to get the courage to get up and do something. Panic keeps her from legs from not shaking. She hits her head against the wall one more time and begs herself not to scream too.

"No!" she hears Rick yell in the distance.

"What the hell?" Daryl's voice follows.

On instinct, Lupe jumps up from her spot and stares out the window, needing proof that they'd be okay facing Negan in his state. She's struck frozen at the scene. Negan stands in profile above Spencer, his arm drips blood down to his elbow. His hand, if possibly more red, grasps his gigantic buck knife soaked just the same. Spencer kneels with a gaping slash across the entire length of his waist. His organs fall out, plopping to the ground, slipping through his fingers. His intestines wriggle into his hands with their last desperate attempts at life. He gasps and gurgles at the horrific sight. Lupe takes a few stuttering steps back, her hand over her mouth, holding in bile and a scream. The people gathered lose it.

"Well look at that!" Negan shouts at Spencer, his face a pantomime of surprise and shock, "They were inside you the whole time!" Negan grins out at all the people. He makes a slow turn, on full display for the gathered Alexandrians. He stops, his face suddenly going slack.

Lupe doesn't breathe. Her feet are nailed to the floor in fear, and it hurts just as bad not to move.

Negan sees her.


	45. Chapter 45

"Stop this!" Rick snarls.

Negan whirls on Rick, ripped from his trance. His mouth is incapable of movement for a moment. He turns back to the window, but it's empty.

Negan shakes his head hard and charges towards the leader of Alexandria, his face curling into a rage. "Whose house is that!? Who lives there!?" Negan storms towards Rick and he lets a wild punch fly. Rick dodges on instinct and steps back, putting up his hands. Negan turns back to him with a glare, burning with something absolutely terrifying. Whatever just happened let something loose in him and it is a bleak and merciless thing. "Oh Rick," his voice is low and deadly, "that was a very bad move."

"S'my house!" Daryl snarls. "Don't need to hit him for that."

Negan turns on Daryl and stalks up to him real close. His voice is perfectly level, but absolutely sinister. "Who is in there?"

Daryl gives him a weird look, his face twisted and pinched. "No one. It's my house. I live there. Alone."

"Who did I see in that window then, huh!?" Negan snarls, half unhinged, inches away from Daryl's nose. "You hiding someone from me?"

Daryl shakes his head, maintaining an air of disbelief. "Nah, whole community came out to watch what you just done." He chews on his lips with his hands twitching at his sides. "Whole world's haunted though, maybe you just saw a ghost."

Negan is flooded by a long repressed anguish. He does not consciously control the hand that swings back the knife, readying to drive it into Daryl's head. Even if he did, with the strangled rage inside of him, he wouldn't have cared.

"Negan!" Arat shouts and Negan freezes, knife tip miraculously still. The glare he directs at her would have broke her legs if it had any force to it. Her eyes widen, incredulous. "The guns?" she insists the question instead of asking it.

Negan chills quickly, still murderous, but cold. He drops his knife hand to his side and lets out a humorless chuckle. He smiles at Daryl and pats him on his cheek too hard. He strolls disjointedly, like he needs to remember what it feels like to not just be fire beneath skin. He falls into an easy saunter on his way over to where Rick stands, red eyed and looking shaken.

"Give me my guns Rick," Negan says in a tone that brokers no argument. Rick slaps them into his hands and does his best to focus on the floor instead of head butting Negan. "There's a good boy. Now I won't have to kill Carol, cause I happen like Carol. Probably the only one of you I do like." He looks at the guns in his hands and smiles wide. "Where'd you find them?"

Rick's eyes travel to the corpse bleeding out, the last of the last of a family. "Spencer. His house. He, uh, stole food before."

Negan lets out a roaring laughter, a completely soulless thing. "You could not imagine how fuckin' funny that is to me! He was spouting all this shit about loyalty, taking you out, and takin' charge, and he's stealing from the community?" He guffaws. "Well… took care of that problem. I'm gonna have to start keepin' a tally of how many of your problems I solve Rick." Negan weighs the gun in his blood soaked hand and grins. "Let's see if he was taking care of my guns."

Negan pops up his arm with barely any aim and fires off several shots. Everyone jumps at the booming sound and glass shattering. They tore right through that top window of Daryl's house. Daryl's arms are stiff as he glares at Negan. Negan slowly turns from Rick and faces Daryl.

"Now Daryl," Negan grins but it's empty and pitiless, "give me the grand tour." Daryl doesn't hesitate, he walks away without even waiting for Negan to join him. "Oh, eager! I love it! This guy has hustle! Let's go Rick." He follows Daryl's trail and steps right over Spencer's corpse, just as it's starting to reanimate. "Someone clean up this mess, I don't want to have to ask twice!" Negan roars over his shoulder and everyone jumps into movement.

As they step inside the house, Daryl's glad that Lupe has never been hell bent on decorating. It's still her home. Daryl's just started to sleep there most nights. He hadn't had a room or a bed in a good long while, wasn't even comfortable in them really. Lupe offered the space one night and he couldn't turn her down again. Some nights they spent together, in one room or the other. Some nights, they understandably spent apart, both big fans of having their own space. Daryl despises having Negan in the place she calls her home, somewhere she might have started feeling safe. He'll happily tear it all down and rebuild it, as long as he knows she's okay.

Daryl's quiet as Negan stalks around the place. He doesn't know what happened out there on the street, but lookin' once at this house had Negan in a tizzy. He hopes Lupe got out alright and he really hopes that Negan hadn't seen her.

"You really live alone?" Negan muses as he paws through things.

"Sometimes," Daryl replies. "Sometimes Michonne kicks Rick out for being an ass." Rick gives him a hard disinterested look, but folds his brotherly disdain away as Negan paces around.

Negan chuckles emptily. "Not surprised." He pauses at the dog food set up Lupe made in the kitchen. "Your dog I saw earlier?"

Daryl shrugs. "Kinda, mutt circles about to everyone. I hunt with her sometimes. We all try to keep her fed and watered."

"Y'all just let her out into the wilds?" Negan asks.

"S'where we found her," Daryl mumbles.

"Hmmm…" Negan chuckles, "Didn't peg you for an animal lover."

"Shit happens," Daryl replies.

Negan goes through the house a few more times, even though the Saviors had already done it. It could probably count as helpful. They tossed shit willy nilly and the space barely looks lived in anymore. Lupe is a bit of a sparse person to begin with. The only thing that holds sentimental value to her is the gun she keeps strapped to her hip at all times.

They end up in the empty room Negan shot. He's digging out some of the bullets, and grins when one comes out into his hand. Looking around the place, he asks, "No women in your life?"

"The ones that live in the community all come in and out like goddamn mother hens."

Negan guffaws. "I meant who are you fucking?"

"No one, ain't got the time or interest," Daryl snaps out fast.

"Ain't Carol is it?"

"Told you it's no one."

Negan chuckles, "Alright, alright, sorry for doubting you. You just got such a fuckin' handsome mug."

Negan holds on tight to the uncomfortable sensation as he walks through this house. He could have sworn he saw her face up in the window. It was far. He's been up for more than twenty four hours too. It isn't the first time he thought he saw her face in a crowd. She haunts him, in so many ways. Thoughts of her tie him up in his own rage and disbelief. She wounded his pride by escaping. But she captured a little bit of his shriveled heart and the attention of his ruthless narcissism. She never actually broke for him, not like everyone else. He regrets that. He still itches for some time with her. And if she is alive, he'd snatch her back up in a second.

Negan turns to Daryl with a fake smile and huffs, "Your house is boring as shit, my friend." He turns away and walks out of the room.

Daryl and Rick let out a shuddering breath. They look at each other once, minds both boggled that Lupe had done so much to save their asses. Rick follows Negan out first. Daryl trails. He looks around the house one more time, breathing in the space. He relishes the privilege of sharing it with a person that means too much to him to put words to. He shakes his head and hopes Negan will fuck off soon. He has to find her.

The Saviors overstayed their welcome by several hours. Daryl had to wait to make sure Alexandria wasn't being watched before he could head out. Lupe on the other hand knew better than to stay around. The second Negan looked away from her, fight or flight kicked in and she was gone. The guns and her jumped down that sewer pipe like Mario and Yoshi and she was out the other side just as fast. She ran out deep into the woods, whistled once, found her beloved truck, climbed in with Barbacoa, and held her gun in her lap. It took Daryl a ridiculous amount of effort to find her spot. When he pulls back the camouflage and looks in the window, he's faced with one of the worst scenes in his exhausting life. Her sister's gun is pressed up under her chin, the muzzle slick with tears.

Daryl scrambles right on in and goes to pull the gun from under her chin, but she can't let it go.

"He found me," Lupe sobs, crumbling against the other side of the car. "He saw me and he'll never stop." The gun still presses against her jaw. Her voice is a broken rasp from all the crying she's done, "I'd rather die than ever let him lay his eyes on me again."

Daryl shakes his head. Despite the living nightmare it is to see a gun pressed into her skin, he forces his voice to stay calm, "He thought he saw you, but he didn't. He didn't find you. He's not gonna. We're gonna keep you safe. They shouldn't be back for a week. We'll get them shit for a while. Keep'em living large." He chuckles softly, more like a grunt. "You spooked him good and screwed him hard. How much shit did you manage to fit in here? Looked like we were getting ready for cardboard rations. Negan pitied us so much he didn't even take any food."

Lupe hiccups and slowly holsters her sister's gun. "The whole back compartment is packed with medicine and some staples." She tilts her head, eyes slitted and exhausted, but there's remnants of that twinkling mischief Daryl knows and adores so well. "I got the rocket launcher out."

"You are magic, you know that?" Daryl snickers.

"I feel like shit," she warbles.

Daryl nods. He reaches out to adjust some camouflage on the outside and then sits his ass on the passenger seat. Barbacoa is between them, mostly on Lupe. They look content though, all smooshed up together. His heart aches for Lupe as she shudders slow breaths in and out with closed eyes. She looks sucked dry. Her hand rests on the gun on her hip like it's a comfort blanket. He now knows why she always had it, why it's always loaded. She's always ready for Negan to find her. She's always ready to pull the trigger and make sure he'd never have her again. He hates it, but he understands it.

"Don't want you to die," Daryl grumbles.

Lupe shakes as a sob rattles through her. "I don't want to die, Daryl. I would just rather die than ever see him again." She shudders. "The way he was talking to Carol was sick. Is she okay?"

He nods. "Right as rain. She didn't like it one bit, but she held her act. She's survived worse than him." His eyes narrow at her. "Where were you when all this was happening?"

Lupe smiles, but it wriggles with her grief and fear. "Rick's roof. I was collecting guns when I heard them coming. I didn't have enough time to get down the sewers. I was in my house by the time the billiards bullshit happened. Negan really did see me."

"He thought he saw you," Daryl insists. "It's gonna drive him up a tree, but we ain't gonna let him know yer here. No one knows your relationship to him. Ain't gonna find out neither. We don't snitch on our family."

She shakes her head at him with a quivering grimace. "I still feel like I don't deserve that label. I still feel like I brought this on all you. I'm so sorry."

Daryl inches closer, but can't go far because of Barbacoa's rump. "How bout we get you home?"

Lupe nods. "I need a shower, the sewers sucked."

Daryl huffs out a laugh. "Sewers lead all the way out here? Shit, took me forever to find you."

Her broken smile is smug. "That happens to be the point."

He helps her from the car and they freshen up its camouflage before they head back to Alexandria with Barbacoa leading the way and sniffing out threats. They shower with their skivvies on again. They're taking their time getting to know each others boundaries. Neither of them feel the rush to push things. Both are pretty fucked when it comes to relationships.

Daryl never kept a partner in his life. He wouldn't even risk bringing friends around his Dad. Merle couldn't let Daryl have anyone else. Merle needed him too much. Daryl usually managed with one night stands. He always brushed off the ones he was really interested in. It saved all of them the strife. His personal life was a bear trap and he didn't want no one to get hurt.

Lupe didn't have much time to try. She was focused from seventeen and needed to help contribute to her family. She had a few short relationships as she became an adult. Some wanted only half of her and the others usually wanted what she wasn't ready to give. She was insecure, and funneled all of her hope and energy into her sister. Lupe had written herself off a long time ago.

That night, they rest fitfully in Daryl's room. Lupe didn't want to be in hers cause Negan and his Saviors had rifled through it all. Even now, Negan couldn't help himself and loved to trample all over her boundaries. Daryl's room wasn't left untouched, but it felt different when it wasn't personal. He didn't give half a shit about the Saviors. He would've slept on a bed of nails just to get her in his arms. They tried hard to get through the night. Waking up to screams, sobs, or both. Despite the trauma trying to eat away at them, Lupe and Daryl wrapped up together best they could and tried to weather the storm.


	46. Chapter 46

Alexandria is nearly bone dry the next few weeks. The group is shaken, that is an absolute. Rick, Michonne, Heath, and Tara are aggressively scavenging anything they can get their hands on in preparation for each visit from the Saviors. True to form, Negan shows up himself every week just to terrorize the inhabitants. He makes a big show of teetering back and forth over their offerings. He sizes up people to take instead, blustering and threatening. They know he can't deny it though. They produce for him.

While Negan rolls around in his pride like a pig in muck, Daryl and Lupe are out scouting the outposts. They take Daryl's bike after some efforts to acclimate. She stayed off the damn things almost her entire life because they are, in general, massive death traps. She was rather proud of that little abstinence. She still hates them, but for those same reasons and more now. Sacrifices are made during trying times, so to cope with her terror of hurtling at inhuman speeds completely unprotected while they go out scouting, she clings to Daryl like a vine. Daryl doesn't mind it one bit.

Negan has a triangulated position with the Satellite outpost, The Chemical Plant outpost, and The Sanctuary walling in all 'his' territory. The Satellite outpost is nearest to Hilltop and usually supervised by Simon. They have about thirty Saviors given the day. Most of the resources inside are collected from the nearby community, excluding the giant field of cannabis plants in the back. The Chemical Plant outpost is manned by Gavin, a relatively tame Savior who keeps his deals above board with The Kingdom. Sixty men occupy that outpost with three buildings on site. It mostly holds ammunition. The Sanctuary is, of course, the most difficult to assess. It's Negan's roost and holds well over three hundred people and the inventory to feed and protect them. About two hundred of those people are Saviors. A hundred or so are workers that keep the place self-sustaining. It's moated in by walkers, and the building is self-contained with only five main exits. It holds everything the other outposts don't and more.

After one of Negan's visits, Rick gathers his team to discuss their options. Carol, Aaron, Morgan, and Michonne chat by Rick, who's pacing. Tara and Rosita lean in and whisper as they stare at the recon already gathered on the table. Abraham, Eugene, Gabriel, Heath, and Sasha are discussing the current status of the armory. Daryl and Lupe unpack all the information they've collected. They try to organize it with Enid and Carl's help. Even Glen came back into town, bringing Jesus with him from Hilltop while Maggie rests. Daryl and Lupe give Rick a nod when they're ready. Everyone starts gathering around the table, sitting or standing. They wait patiently for this.

"We should strike soon while Negan remains appeased. He'll expect it less since we've been so desperately toeing the line," Rick says, his voice hard. "Right now he's reveling in our struggle and our complacency."

"He thinks he's got us cowed," Glenn adds.

"Exactly." Rick nods, almost smiling. "My thanks to everyone for doing the work. I know it's been beyond grueling having to treat him like a king, knowing what we know, but you've been doing it. No one has lost their life to Negan since the Monroes."

"We should go to the Kingdom," Jesus steamrolls the conversation, "negotiate with their leader, see if they'll help us take down The Sanctuary."

"The Sanctuary?" Tara asks, "Why there?"

Jesus replies, "It's his main base, his biggest cash cow. He has the most Saviors there. We should level it. Cut off the head of the snake so to speak."

"How we gonna do that?" Daryl asks with a specific tone of disdain. He doesn't like that idea. Negan is the type of guy prepared for a head on attack. Lupe also said there's innocent people living in that place. People she cared about and in return cared for her. He practically owes them his life.

Jesus gives him a disappointed stare above a sarcastic grin. "I see that Anarchist Cookbook on your shelf. The tanker you hid nearby has plenty of gasoline. We could make an absurd amount of bombs and lose some trucks directly into the building, try to hit support points. We can bring the entire structure down on top of them."

Rick bites his cheek. It was his idea to hide the tanker out there and he's mad it was a weak enough spot for Jesus to notice. "Alright, but how do we figure out where the building's integrity points are? It's not like we have blue prints."

Jesus shrugs. "I don't deal with any of the Saviors directly. I might be able to sneak in. If you have anyone familiar with construction, that might be extra useful to inform my search."

Rick nods and gestures at Daryl. "He's got some construction experience. Abraham and Tobin too. Carter might be able to pitch in, but he's been having a hard time since James was killed during Walker attack."

"What if people survive or the building doesn't fall?" Glenn asks.

"We can establish a perimeter around the area and snipe anyone trying to escape." Abraham says off-hand. "A blast needed to take out a building of that size will probably draw every walker in the state. That might help us or hurt us. We better be real slick."

"Yeah!" Lupe says, clapping once. Her voice is as cheery as it is empty. She shoots to her feet, staring at the papers spread out and walks slowly towards them. She leans forward, fists on the table, and keeps bobbing her head. "Great input everyone! Level an entire building, killing 300 people? Excellent and near genocidal," her tone is business-casual. "Shoot people in the head as they crawl to safety? Love it. Now, should we divvy up the elderly and the children? Better yet, will there be a predetermined ditch to just lob their bodies in?" She finally snaps her glare up at the men who dared to speak. A too-sharp smile that bares her teeth makes everyone shut up and stay that way. "Or are you guys all done talking so flippantly about the irrational massacre of about a hundred innocent people?"

The silence gets tense.

"Thanks, I'd like my turn," she snarls at them. Daryl grins and nods his head. "What you fail to understand is that Negan is prepared for such attacks. He chose that building for a reason. He's got more than one hundred and fifty Saviors at the Sanctuary at any given time, but he has another hundred men outside it too. Other outposts that have artillery and resources. Those outside Saviors will swarm home base if threatened. If there's an opportunity to escape the Sanctuary during an attack? The scum will find a way." She glares at Jesus. "And I will not stand by and allow you to murder hundreds of innocent people because you've got a grudge. I despise Negan, but the way to beat him is not by more senseless fucking murder."

Jesus looks appropriately cowed as he looks down, if slightly petulant when he crosses his arms. She looks around the room and sees some faces nodding to her, supporting her despite the room fueled by aggression. "I want Negan dead, but dead likely won't happen that easy. He is deeply guarded and his men ascribe to a cult mentality, fueled by their trauma. Breaking their illusion could cause something worse." She sighs, staring back down on the maps. "I know he has escape plans built into the facility. I was never privy to them because he knew I'd try and use them." She snorts. "So, if you can't pin'em down?" she asks the class rhetorically.

"You have to weaken'em and wait," Daryl replies.

She smiles wide at him and nods. "Oh, exactly! The way to take out Negan with the least possible casualties is to expertly dismantle his empire."

"How?" Carol asks, but it's not in doubt.

"Take out the outposts first and don't make it obvious. We hide our tracks. We need to make Negan think all of this is just a wild fucking coincidence," she finishes with a comical warble and waves her arms around. Her grin spreads. "It will drive him up a tree. He craves control. Control brings power. So let's make him lose control," Lupe replies. "The communities continue to kiss ass and save face. We scavenge like hell. We let him practice his control with us, so he doesn't lash out at us. Granted, he probably still will. But hopefully, with what I have in mind, the process will roll along quickly enough and he won't have the fucking time to be coming out here and trying to bash anyone's head in."

"Alright," Rick nods, "you're right, as usual." He ticks his head and gives her a little grin. "We fight for the future, we fight to be the foundation of it. We don't want it built on the bones of innocents. Not this time."

Michonne nods proudly at him and looks back to Lupe. "What do we do?"

Lupe pushes the papers with all the Sanctuary details to the side and pulls out the maps of the outposts her and Daryl made. "The Satellite outpost is near Hilltop. It's manned by only about thirty guys and Simon is the leader. Now Simon is unique, because he is one seriously fucked up asshole. He's a bit of a wild card in this situation cause he's generally ruthless on principle. Because of him, this attack has to be more targeted. We have to go in carefully, but, we don't have to make it look like we did. Right?"

The room full of heads all nod, so she continues, "I suggest we hit the place at night. Simon isn't one to care about people, so he runs a ship expecting everyone to keep up. That's a benefit for us, because they're mostly just grunts out there guarding some supplies and cannabis."

"We sneak in and we kill as many as we can while they're sleeping. That way we can try to spare as many of our own lives as possible. It also means a smaller team." Lupe looks around the room and tries to figure out who could help.

"So killing men in their sleep isn't senseless murder?" Jesus replies acridly.

"Oh it's murder, but it isn't senseless you ass. You really gonna sit there and defend these men? Now?" Lupe snaps. "Really? They've been killing your people for years." Jesus looks away, but nods.

"I don't want to kill anyone goddamnit! But we all know the Saviors aren't creating a community, they're trying to own the world. We are not going to let them." Lupe looks around the room stone-faced and then continues, "We need make it look like the Satellite outpost was attacked by the W's. We loot some, but we have to destroy as much as possible. But only after we've killed the combatants. We will have to be ruthless in the way we treat the Saviors' bodies, so I need people comfortable with butchering and making a display. I don't like it, but covering our tracks will protect all the communities."

Carol nods eagerly. "I'll go." She looks around at the nervous faces. "I agree. I'd rather take the Saviors out quietly than risk anyone's lives in a firefight. We don't want a war…"

"We want a coup," Lupe smiles, finishing off for her, "guerrilla tactics and all that. Negan has numbers, but numbers don't mean victory. We have to be smart."

"What about the other outpost?" Rosita asks.

"The chemical plant? We can burn it to the ground." She shrugs. "We'll have to get through the gates, but I think I know how to get in. A couple of Rick's ideas inspired me." She points out the Chemical Plant outpost on the map. "The perimeter is strong because they made a moat of the dead around it. This places houses artillery, so they're more serious about protecting it. We need numbers." She swallows. "I think we should release walkers outside the gates to tear the outpost down. That way we can ensure the gates and the Saviors fall."

"How can we make sure all the Saviors get taken down by walkers?" Heath asks Lupe.

"I want a bigger group on this strike, because we're going to need to be precise. We have to take out three buildings with something like sixty men. I think we can accomplish this dressed as walkers, masked by their blood. We can just follow them right in. Because I don't doubt the Saviors will try and mow the walkers down, I think if we're carefully armored, like some Riot Cops with helmets and shit, and we hide right, we can probably withstand the barrage. We could have guns for back up, but it might be better to try and take them out quietly. If we hit them in the right place with a small knife, we can cause internal bleeding that will kill them in minutes. With the dead at our backs, they'll take care of the evidence. Remember: we leave no trace back to the communities." Lupe looks back to Rick. "Then we can set flammables down, explosives, and take out the outpost and resources. I wouldn't mind stealing the resources, but unless it all burns to ashes, they'll need some evidence of their goods doing down."

"We could take half," Gabriel quips with that gentle voice of his. Everyone snickers.

Lupe holds back a laugh and points at Gabriel, "Good call." She looks down at the map. "We should probably release a second round of walkers after we finish, just to be thorough. Make it look like a second wave came after the fires set or something." She looks between Daryl and Aaron. "I was thinking about using that idea with the music and lights to draw them into trucks. Like you two talked about the W's doing at that factory." The men glance at each other and sigh, but nod to Lupe. Since the W's are gone, it's likely the Alexandrians could just steal the rigs.

"What about the Sanctuary? What about Negan?" Jesus growls.

"Man, you need to relax. Go read the beatitudes or something, jeez," Lupe sasses and rolls her eyes. "The Sanctuary attack is going to be much more careful and deliberate and it will take time. We can't manage an outright siege with the numbers we have. I do not want to start some kind of war and put more lives at risk. We have all agreed that we want Negan gone so we need to make it happen. A war doesn't guarantee that! The Sanctuary has to fall slowly. Negan has to fail over and over again. He has to be knocked down several pegs, enough for people to be more than just done with him. That is when we strike." She sighs. "So I think we should cut off resources, like water, electric, and gas. Damage what they have by releasing rodents onto the property or something. Poison the well, so to speak."

"So destabilize and attack." Abraham nods. "Minimize casualties to mostly combatants, gather resources, and keep them off our tail." He shakes his head, chuckling with a big grin on his face, "Jeeeee-SUS…" he looks back at Lupe, "This is an excellent plan, mighty high on the sinister. I love it. I'm in."

"Thank you," Lupe says, smoothing back her still growing hair with a smug grin and grabbing pretend suspenders on her chest.

"Where are we gonna hide all the stuff we take?" Carl asks. "We don't want him to find it with us."

"Great point, Carl." Lupe smiles at him and he shoots her a tight little grin with a flush on his cheeks. "I have a location that is pretty much undisturbed and difficult as fuck to find. Daryl and I accidentally found it while we were out on the road. I don't want to disclose the location to anyone else, only because I worry about putting people in a dangerous position. We don't need to add any more leverage to the chaos. I'd even prefer Daryl not to know, but he was with me, so fuck it." She shrugs. "But if everyone wants to know I won't keep it from them. I'm just explaining why I think it's a better idea not to tell you."

Glenn nods. "I don't think that's a bad idea for now. That might change later."

"Fair enough. We need to be ready for anything." Lupe looks around and sighs. "This is the bad part of the plan. I guarantee Negan will go out to try and terrorize the communities as we do this. We have to be on top of our game and lie our fucking faces off. It will not be easy, but I am hoping he won't directly go to killing people. He'll want to scare us, but we're money to him. We might get hurt, but we won't die." Everyone sighs and nods along, already well familiar with putting themselves in that position.

"It's also why I do kind of agree with Jesus, that we should make contact with the Kingdom. We will be operating in their territory. We should warn them about the Saviors and the outposts. I don't want to slip up and cause any more goddamn conflicts." She looks over at Jesus and her glare is serious. "If you want to really make a difference, not just for your people, but for everyone, I need you to be in on this. I need you to take us to King Ezekiel."

Jesus leans back in his chair and looks much less disgruntled. "I think it's a good plan. And you're not wrong, I do have a grudge, but it's deserved, much like yours."

She shakes her head softly. "I don't mean to invalidate that, I really don't. But do you really want more people to die?"

Jesus sighs. "No, that's why I'll take you to Ezekiel." He stands up and walks towards her. He extends his hand and hears a growl. He looks over and Barbacoa is next to Glenn, because he currently has pregnancy smell all over him. Glenn reaches down to pet her.

"Para," Lupe mutters to Barbacoa with a grin. She reaches out her hand and shakes Jesus'. "It'll take time for her to trust you. It'll take some time for me as well. Don't make me regret it." They stand in front of each other and nod.

"I want to help you save our communities," Jesus replies, earnest and with no smarmy bullshit in sight. "We should get to the Kingdom as soon as possible."

"I agree." She looks over to Rick.

He nods, waving his hands at her. "It's a good plan. We'll start mapping out specifics while you get this other leader on our side."

"You don't want to come?" She asks.

"Might be smart to," Carol says, "we could take some peace offerings. We should make connections either way."

"Ezekiel would like that." Jesus nods. "He's a compassionate man and a good leader. He cares about his people, but…"

"But?" Daryl asks sharply.

"He's kind of eccentric?" Jesus says, his face twisting up into half a wink.

Lupe snorts. "My favorite kind!" She looks around the group. "Okay, who wants to go to the Kingdom?"

A few people raise their hands and it's enough. They don't want to make a show of force, they want to gain permission and support. Carol, Morgan, Rosita, Rick, Michonne, Lupe, and Jesus all step up. When Daryl and Carl do, Rick stops them.

"Carl, you are genuinely a great strategist," his father starts, "I want you here with Glenn, Sasha, Abraham, and the rest, working to figure out what we can specifically do to support Lupe's ideas. We have to start preparing immediately. Daryl knows the places and plans almost as well as Lupe, so I need you to work with him, okay?"

Carl looks dejected, but only for a moment. He nods his head. "I get it dad, it's smart. I'll help."

"Thank you son." Rick gives him a genuine hug and then turns to Daryl. He's already chewing on his nail like he's been starving for weeks and thinking about just taking a full bite. Rick tries not to smile at his nerves. He feels the same walking away from Michonne and his children. "I'll bring her back safe, I promise."

"You better," Daryl snarls and then hugs Rick tight. "I expect all your asses back safe."

After they pull apart, Rick says, "Let's get started. We want to make it happen soon, but we can't rush, alright? Work together, that's the way we'll survive." Everyone starts moving.

Lupe heads straight for Daryl and he wraps her up in his arms. "You be safe," he grunts against the top of her head.

Lupe nods into his chest and sighs. "I will. I can do eccentric, I can't do egomaniacal."

Daryl chuckles and kisses her hair. His runs his fingers through it, just a few inches long now. It falls flat on her head sometimes, but since her hair is rather thick and straight, it sort of sticks up like an anime character. "Gettin' long. You thinkin' about trimmin' it again?"

"I haven't decided." She shrugs. "I might, just cause it's so fucking easy. I've also never had short hair, so who knows, maybe I'll experiment!"

"Long as I get to keep touching it, I don't care." He grins and moves to press his lips to her forehead.

She closes her eyes and snuggles into him. "It's been nice out there with just you and me. I'll have to get used to talking to people again."

He snorts. "You'll do just fine." He presses a kiss to her lips this time. It's tender in all the ways she ever dreamed of being kissed. She wraps herself up in him while he gladly holds her cheeks, keeping her delicately in place as he sups at her.

She grins into his mouth. "I gotta go, people are staring."

"Let'em," he grumbles quick and kisses her hard for a beat. Pulling away, they're both a bit breathless and smiling like fools.

"Alright, alright," Rick comes up on them trying to hold back his smile, "plenty of time to suck face when we get back." He skips away from Daryl taking a swing at him and chuckles on the way out of the house.

"Asshole," Daryl grumbles. He kisses Lupe one more time, his brother forgotten for just a second. Looking down at Lupe, he stares in her eyes, and for them, it's never been hard. "You be safe. Take care of that jerk."

Lupe scrunches up her nose with her smile, one of Daryl's favorites, and says, "Will do." She pops a quick kiss on his lips and then follows Rick out of the house. Daryl sighs deeply and turns back to see Carl and Enid already looking at the plans. Eugene and Abraham are huddled together, discussing explosive particulars he thinks. Everyone else starts to migrate closer to the table, so he joins in and he's sure this is the right thing to do.

It's their community.

They're going to protect it.

All of it.


	47. Chapter 47

The drive to the Kingdom is not the worst. The area still has pockets of beauty that sprout and grow and have thankfully started to spread. Lupe finds nature's reclamation of space to be a wondrous thing, even if it spawned from disaster. The universe got her reset button. Sure, humans have plenty of time to die out, but they weren't convinced of letting it be anytime soon.

They park their SUV in the middle of an abandoned lot, surrounded by a few brick buildings. It's sparse and totally empty as they crawl out.

Rick clears his throat as he opens his door. He looks around, unimpressed. "It's really called 'The Kingdom'?"

Jesus walks around, removing his beanie. "Yeah," he huffs. Looking back at Rick's disbelief, he shrugs. "I mean, I didn't name it."

"At least it has some flair," Lupe says stretching as she walks up next to Carol. Barbacoa loops around the people and cars, staying close enough, but checking for threats.

"How much farther?" Rick asks, looking around.

"Technically we're already here," Jesus replies. His face bends into a thoughtful smile. "I mean technically we're always here —,"

"Oh my goooooooooooood," Lupe groans and rolls her eyes, throwing her whole body into it. Jesus grins, raising an eyebrow. Rick sends her a look, dusted with a very soft reprimand.

"We're at the outer edge," Jesus smiles at Lupe. She sends him a smirk.

Rosita comes out from the car, chewing on the inside of her lip. "What the hell are we waiting around here for?"

Barbacoa starts barking and Lupe turns around, seeing her trying to corral two horses with men on top. The animals rear back on their hind legs and whinny. Thankfully Barbacoa moves like a shadow and keeps out of the way of their clomping feet.

"Who dares —! Oh, shit!" There's a man on top one of the frantic horses, still trying to hold onto his staff, aiming at the Alexandria group. " Dares trespass — on the sovereign — shit, doggie watch out!" He tries to shoo Barbacoa with his staff, voice vacillating between stern and sweet. Unfortunately, it's just making the dog as irritated as the horse beneath the man. "Damn — someone —?" He looks up at the new group. "Oh shit, Jesus, that you!?" His voice is immediately lighter.

Jesus waves. Lupe whistles and Barbacoa immediately comes back and sits down. The horses calm and the riders approach the group.

The blonde man who was silent during their entrance finally speaks. "Who are all these people, Paul?"

Lupe looks over fast and whispers to Jesus, "You go by all twelve apostles or some shit?"

Jesus snorts, but walks forward, waving and smiling genially. "Nice to see you, Richard."

"It's good to see you too," Richard replies and it sounds pretty genuine despite his polite moroseness. "Your friends, who are they?"

Jesus smiles and points to Rick. "Rick Grimes, he's the leader of a like-minded community. These are some of his people." Jesus turns back to Richard, up on the horse. He keeps the same smile that just tiptoes along being too-confident and smarmy. "We'd like to request an audience with King Ezekiel."

Richard looks on suspiciously, staring at each and every one of the Alexandrians. He pauses on Lupe who has her bandana up. "Take off the mask," he says, more of a suggestion than a demand. Lupe complies as he dismounts his horse and approaches. "Thank you for cooperating," he says to Lupe. He peers into the car and looks around. "No one else?"

Rick shakes his head and says, "No, just us."

"And an offering." Lupe smiles.

Richard nods and continues to take them all in. He is middle aged and rugged in a tired looking way. He glances at Jesus, discerning as he narrows his eyes. "You say like-minded. How?"

"We live, we trade, we fight the dead," Jesus says. With a small grin he adds, "And sometimes others."

Richard looks at Jesus hard, almost suspicious and angry. "Alright. Line up."

"For what?" Rosita asks incredulously.

Richard leans in, biting out the words in frustration, "It's a dangerous world out there. We don't usually let a pack of strangers come waltzing through our doors. Would you?"

Michonne nods and puts her hands up. "We're trying to make the world a less dangerous place. We're just here to talk to the king, to show him how serious we are about that."

Richard looks at her for a long time and nods. He looks back at Rosita and says, "My apologies." He turns back to the group. "I can either confiscate your guns or they can stay with the car."

Everybody nods, even though they don't like it. "As long as we can keep our melee weapons for the dead, we'll put the guns in the car," Rick says. Richard replies with a simple nod and everyone gets situated.

Once done, Richard instructs, "Follow me."

"Oh!" Lupe interjects before everyone walks off. "Uh, if you're gonna lead us on foot, may we borrow the back of your horse?"

Richard gives her a strange suspicious look, but it's not very heated. "For what?" he asks.

Lupe smiles wide, she's enthusiastic as she blurts, "The offering!" Richard looks like he's thinking about smiling, but just nods as an answer to her request.

The path to the Kingdom is not long. Richard and Jesus lead the way. The time it takes to reach the community itself is negligible in comparison to some of the treks the group has had. Once they reach the gates, they enter a whole new scene that makes the apocalypse fade away.

Inside the Kingdom is a large swathe of protected land, walled in between large brick buildings and built up walls made of buses and cars. There are areas for planting and playing. The place is active with people of all ages, all over, engaging and molding their community. A pack of people dressed in makeshift armor like Richard and his friend Alvaro run past in tight formation, looking like Marines. The place is peaceful and soft in ways that the other communities have not seen in a long time. The Alexandrians are breathless. Aside from Barbacoa, bodily wagging with all the new friends to meet. The Kingdom has two gazebos.

They get led to one of the brick buildings and Richard goes inside for a while. When he comes back out, he lets them know the King is ready to be seen. They gather in together, following Richard and Jesus inside.

They enter into a small auditorium, practically cleaned out. It's lit dimly, but the stage is a beacon. A gigantic man with an axe to match stands on the left side. A boy, blonde and shaggy haired stands right next to him wearing body armor. Center stage, a large wooden throne shines up on a small dais. Sat in the throne is a man, leaned into the seat and looking like he was born to be there. He wears similar scraggly clothes that everyone does, could be just anyone else out there, but the air around him is electrified. The staff in his hand knocks down on the floor three times and everyone stills.

"Jesus!" his voice booms, belonging to an age where the Globe Theater was at its prime. "It pleases me to see you old friend!"

"It pleases him indeed!" The large axe wielder shouts, his voice vibrant, deep, but undeniably sweet.

"Jerry…" King Ezekiel says, less animated, slightly annoyed, but a bit affectionate. He looks back to Jesus with a grin. "Tell me what news you bring good King Ezekiel. Are these new allies for our Kingdom?"

Jesus walks down the center isle slowly, smiling wide. "Indeed your majesty! This is —," he turns to introduce everyone, but they stand frozen at the back door.

The group starts wobbling a bit in their daze. Lupe, too short for the back, pushes herself through them like she's in a corn field and sees the entire presentation put on display. Richard on the right, the axe man and a kid on the left, in the center, possibly the most beautiful man she's ever seen, and...

"Oh my goooooooood!" Lupe whines affectionately, her face screws up in delighted disbelief. She starts rushing forward and Rick manages to catch up to her and grab her before she can make it past Jesus.

"That's a tiger," Rick says, voice flat-lining.

"She —! 'She' right? She's not as beefy as some of the males I've seen at the zoo. Oh wow! Wow! She's so beautiful!" Lupe almost shouts. She's absolutely enchanted by the creature. The tiger is enormous, brightly orange and golden, striped with black. The beast is furred death on four legs, but all Lupe can think about is how humbling it is to be faced with something so magnificent. "She's the second most glorious thing I've ever seen."

King Ezekiel looks enchanted, his head tilting and his silver locs swaying with it. "Second?" his voice sounds playfully insulted.

Lupe finally breaks her gaze from the tiger and looks at Ezekiel, her smile still unbound. "I went to the zoo with my baby sister once. I had a friend of a friend working there and we got to go back behind the enclosures. We got to meet some staff, who were all so damn awesome, and got to see them working with animals." Her eyes glaze over as she speaks to Ezekiel, and it's like something Holy is being imparted, "We got to meet a Silver Back Gorilla. He was absolutely huge, like, I could barely contemplate how big he was. But he was so gorgeous and gentle. We got to sit right up next to his cage and honestly, it was like being at the feet of a god." Her wide eyes go back to the tiger and there are tears in them now. Her lip trembles, but she smiles at Ezekiel anyway, "She's absolutely amazing."

The tiger roars as if to agree. Lupe wriggles in Rick's arms like she just can't stop with the joy coursing through her. Even Barbacoa is jumping at her side and wagging her tail, looking like she just found a new playmate.

Jesus looks back at Ezekiel who stares at Lupe curiously. Jesus clears his throat. "This is Rick Grimes, the leader of Alexandria, and these are some of his people." Jesus invites them down the center isle. Rick has a hold on Lupe, cause she's desperate to get closer to the beast and seems to have zero sense of self preservation. Most everyone else has the mind to stay well back.

Ezekiel chuckles softly at Lupe in her leader's grip, still gazing after Shiva. "I welcome you all to the Kingdom, good travelers." His smile fades slightly as he centers in on Rick. "What brings you to my land? Why do you seek an audience with the King?"

Rick steps forward and pushes Lupe back behind him. "Ezekiel —,"

"King!" Lupe whispers with a poke to his back.

"King Ezekiel," Rick corrects, his voice a little shaky as he looks around the room. He clears his throat and finds his strength, oration at its finest, "Alexandria, the Hilltop, and the Kingdom, all three of our communities have something in common," he pauses dramatically, and continues, "we all suffer to serve the Saviors."

Ezekiel's spine straightens and a look of severe anger flashes in his eyes. His stare jumps directly to Jesus.

"I only told —,"

"Our deal with the Saviors is not known among my people," Ezekiel interrupts him, his voice leveling out to ominous. "For good cause." His glare is true and honest. "We made you a party to that secret when you told us of the Hilltop's own travails, but we did not expect you to share —,"

"We can help each oth —," Jesus tries to interrupt.

Jerry slams the pommel of his axe against the stage and it booms Jesus into silence. "Don't interrupt the King." Jerry glares.

Ezekiel storms behind the stare that remains locked on Jesus. "We told you in confidence. Why did you break it?"

Jesus looks to Ezekiel, beseeching, "Because I want you to hear Alexandria's proposition."

Ezekiel sits back in his chair, eyes alight with thoughts of betrayal. They slowly glide over to Rick and his voice is harsh and deep, "And what plans have you, Rick Grimes of Alexandria?"

Though Lupe is still ready to climb Rick's shoulders to get to that tiger, she doesn't. His tone is too hard to be played with. "If you have a deal with them, then you know who they are. Killers. Thieves, that take whatever they want. They rule with violence and fear. They expect us to drudge away our lives for them. They expect us to produce for them like chattel, and if we don't we're slaughtered just the same. I can tell you that none of us plan to live like that anymore. None of us should have to. So we plan to stop them."

"How?" Ezekiel asks, his tone brokering no room for attitude.

"We have a calculated attack planned to dismantle Negan's empire. We want to wear him down, break his grasp on all the communities, and free them from his terror." Rick nods behind him. "You met Lupe earlier, about the, uh," he waves his hand at the stage, "tiger," he clears his throat of the nerves just saying that word, "she's helped us devise ways to systematically incapacitate him."

Ezekiel's eyes trail to the woman behind their leader. She's still excitedly bouncing on her toes and flashing her gaze between Shiva and Ezekiel. It takes much of his effort not to laugh. Usually he is faced with people much like the rest of her group, frozen in fear. However, she ran straight for Shiva and didn't seem scared. "And what do you ask of me?"

"We ask —,"

Ezekiel puts up a hand to stop Rick. Rick obeys. Ezekiel then tilts his head. "Let her speak."

Rick looks back at Lupe and finally sees fear on her face. She shakes her head fast and hard. He rasps at her with a restrained chuckle, "You can eye a tiger like it's a duckling, but he wants you to speak and you look at me like that?" He shakes his head. "Knock it off and tell him about your machinations, for shit's sake. I want to get out of here and away from that damn tiger."

Lupe clears her throat and steps around Rick. "Um, Your Grace," she grimaces, feeling awkward, "all that we ask is for you to let us navigate your lands without being bothered. We plan on attacking the outpost nearby and we don't want to cause any conflict with your people. Preferably, we don't want your people anywhere near what we're doing because we want your people to be safe. All we ask is that we have your permission to move peacefully through the land."

For a moment, Ezekiel looks uncomfortable and slightly angry. His eyes rove between Jesus and Richard, and there is a long standing tension broiling there. No one likes the Saviors, but Ezekiel has obviously worked hard to protect his people and keep them ignorant of the threat. Lupe remembers hearing about him during her time with Negan. Ezekiel managed to keep Saviors from entering his walls. That alone is impressive, but she knows it's based on fear. It's smart, but they needed to start being smarter.

"We don't want to start a war," Lupe beseeches, "I do not want any more innocents to die because of the Saviors. We will go for them. We will complete this plan. It will work. But I want to make sure none of your people come after us or get caught in the crossfire." Ezekiel meets her eyes and there is a curious glint to his gaze.

She leans into her words, "We will end the Saviors, with or without your permission. But we came here to ask, to warn you, to include you in these plans," she begs, "because we want more for the living than what the Saviors have to offer. We want communities that flourish and grow to be kind and wonderful. Please… please understand that we need to stop the Saviors. We wish to do it, not just for us, for Hilltop, for the Kingdom, nor the dead, but for the future."

"What you are asking is very serious," King Ezekiel replies, monotonous.

"We didn't start this," Lupe entreats, "a lot of us have lost too much already to be eager for more violence." Her smile is desperate and pleading. "We just want to be able to exist in a world where we don't have to keep fighting the living. To do that, to make that future, we have to stop Negan before he gets worse, before he hurts more people."

The King's eyes shoot to hers. They narrow for just a moment at the obvious pain in her tone.

"I want to be honest about what we're all asking," Rick adds, "our people are strong and there are enough of us to complete the plan, but we need support. We need to know others are going to join us in this fight to save our world." Rick sighs hard. "We don't want to start a war, your majesty, we want to end one."

"How can we support you?" Richard asks, curious. "If you don't want men to fight, what do you want from us?"

"Plausible deniability, basically," Lupe replies. "Negan will throw a shit fit when his outposts are taken down. All of us need to be on our best-most-average behavior with the Saviors. We can't let them know we are operating against them. That will spark a war and we don't want that." She looks back to Ezekiel. "We just want to be able to operate in your lands safely. We just need all of you to join us in maintaining the lie that Negan controls us."

Richard leans in to Ezekiel and mutters, "Your majesty, the Saviors have already started pushing us, being more aggressive, demanding more tributes…" He glances at Rick and Lupe. "Perhaps she's right. Maybe we shouldn't wait for it to become more than we can handle." He looks back to Ezekiel and a small smile forms on his face. "It's time to set things right."

Ezekiel bangs his staff on the floor twice, the tiger roars and everyone stills. Except for Barbacoa, wagging her tail and hopping in place. The King stands and speaks, "I wish for all of you to sup with us tonight and we can reconvene in the morning."

"We were supposed to return home…" Rick says carefully. "Our people are expecting us."

Ezekiel's gaze falls, intent on Rick. "An agreement requires trust, Rick Grimes of Alexandria." He looks around to the people gathered and focuses in on Lupe. "Trust requires a slight suspension of our beliefs and expectations, does it not?" He looks back to Rick. "Allow us time to get to know one another. My people are my priority. I must be discerning in whether to grant you what you so desire."

Lupe looks to Rick, hopeful. Rick nods his agreement and then Ezekiel and the tiger are gone.


	48. Chapter 48

The Alexandrians gets escorted out into the general public of the Kingdom. Allowed to explore, they take their time meeting the people and being showed around. There’s a generally easy going pace set inside the walls that spreads out from the people into every facet of the community. It almost seems like the Kingdom is a different planet. The rest of the group finally find out that the Saviors have never once step foot inside the Kingdom. King Ezekiel managed to inflict his own terms on the twisted deal. He attends each and every drop, giving the Saviors their desired loot. In return, the Saviors would never step through the gates of the Kingdom, and never terrorize the people. It looked like Ezekiel already fought quite hard to maintain the peace. They all hoped he was willing to go just a little harder.  
  
The feast is magnificent. Half helped by the Alexandrians themselves, because of the wild boar Lupe caught recently that they brought along on their trip. The meat is succulent and the cooks absolutely show the entire community what a good meal is again. There’s wine and beer and good conversation. The people are lively and homey. They love their community and it’s the type of place that Lupe and the rest of the Alexandrians always dreamed of. They hoped, after they pushed through the last of the darkness, that the Kingdom would be there to help them rebuild.  
  
Lupe talks with Carol, Rosita, and a few Kingdom folks, but gets distracted by Barbacoa. The dog pops into high alert almost instantly. She walks off, sniffing one thing or another, and Lupe follows, concerned. Barbacoa usually only got herself this excited when there was a walker or something to eat. She probably gained five pounds in boar, so Lupe doesn’t think she’s hungry.  
  
They walk the walls for a little bit. Barbacoa’s nose presses to the ground until they reached the auditorium building. She scratches her way through the push-door and bolts off inside. Lupe has to run after her and hope to all hell she doesn’t get herself into too much trouble.   
  
Lupe always hated theaters and schools after hours. There’s something decidedly sinister and haunted about them. Theaters, perhaps because all the plays, memories, emotions, accidents, phantoms and such, that still cling to the walls. Schools, more likely because of the lingering inner screams of suffering students. Either way, they’re entirely unenjoyable to roam around in at night, completely alone, and looking for an impulsive dog.  
  
Lupe tries calling to Barbacoa a few times, but it isn’t until she reaches the men’s changing room and showers that she finds her. Barbacoa lays belly up at the edge of a massive rod iron cage that houses the tiger, Shiva. Shiva’s nose points down and sniffs at Barbacoa, interested and tame as the dog wriggles excitedly beneath her nose. They seem content with each other after a minute or two. Barbacoa jumps up and squeezes herself between the bars.  
  
Lupe just about throws up her own spine and runs towards the cage, but she stops herself. The two animals round one another, relaxed and at peace. Barbacoa plays up her obvious affection and rubs against Shiva, basically just a furry Buick. Barbacoa rolls around on the ground and the tiger hops over her or gently nudges her with the back of her paw. They seem to be amused and happy, so Lupe carefully walks in until both of them notice her.   
  
Barbacoa squeezes her head out of the bars and barks at Lupe once. She wriggles to look over her shoulder at Shiva and has to pop back into the enclosure fully to do it. The dog trots over to the tiger and licks at her face. Shiva does her best to tilt her nose in the opposite direction. Barbacoa whines softly and trots back over with Shiva on her tail.   
  
The giant beast stares at Lupe.  
  
Lupe stares back at the giant beast, and knows an instant humility.  
  
Barbacoa whines and squeezes out of the bars fully to bounce around Lupe’s feet till they take one step, and another, another, and one more. Lupe is barely a foot away from the cage. Barbacoa lays down at the edge, belly up, and stares at Lupe while wagging her tail.   
  
Lupe huffs shakily. “I don’t know if that’ll work for me. I show her my belly, she might scream.” Lupe laughs airily at herself so she won’t scream. Shiva seems to be waiting for her to do something. Lupe gets down onto her knees and meets the tiger’s eyes like she’s looking up from the base of the Inga Falls. Shiva is a natural marvel.  
  
“Hello Shiva,” Lupe says, even though she knows she’ll get no response. “I’m Lupe, and you’ve already met Barbacoa.” Lupe smiles wide, reaching down to pet the dog. Barbacoa squirms happily beneath her fingers. The giant head of the tiger leans down and snuffles at her hand, close to the edge of the cage.   
  
“Oh jeez, how rude am I?” Lupe shuffles closer and puts out her hand. The tiger leans forward and sniffs. Immediately, Shiva starts nudging and rubbing up against Lupe’s palm. Barbacoa jumps up and squeezes back into the cage while Lupe reaches her whole two arms to keep rubbing the purring tiger. Shiva turns around and starts playing with barbacoa some more. Lupe smiles, sits down and crosses her legs, and just watches them for the longest time.  
  
“I’ve never seen her play like that before.”   
  
Lupe turns and King Ezekiel stands in the doorway. His large robe of a coat is gone and his long walking scepter is absent from his hands. In the henly he’s wearing, he still looks like a God, just one hanging out after a BBQ.   
  
Lupe smiles at him, quirking up her face into half an amused wink. “No voice? I kinda like it.”  
  
“Do I detect skepticism?” He raises an eyebrow, the full Shakespearean tone laid on thick, “Perhaps you think me mad? And this place a mere mirage?” She grins at him, wide and genuine, and shakes her head. He grins back, smug. “Arrangements can be made, my dear.”  
  
“It’s cool. I get it. Like… a theme.” She bows to him in appreciation from her place on the floor and he chuckles.  
  
“It, uh, just sort of happened.” Ezekiel smiles, walking in and joining her on the ground. He leans over to Lupe and grins, “One minute you’re a zookeeper that does community theater on the weekend, and the next you’re a King with a Tiger and a Kingdom to rule.”  
  
Lupe snorts and nods. “Yeah, the everyday man’s experience.” She looks at him with a smile, he grins wide as well. “It’s good here though. Doesn’t even feel fake. I mean, your affect is definitely a decision, but the efforts here? Those aren’t fake. That’s evident in the people, and I like it.”  
  
“I’ve worked really hard to try and keep it that way.” Ezekiel smiles as Barbacoa shoves out of the cage and crawls into his lap.  
  
Shiva lays by the edge, pressing her body against the bars right in front of them. Lupe reaches in and gently rubs her side. “But lying to them about the Saviors?” she asks.  
  
Ezekiel shakes his head. “I don’t want to lie to them, but…” he sighs, “I just hoped I wouldn’t always have to.”  
  
“Yeah,” Lupe sighs hard too, “I get that.”  
  
“I’ve been watching your group tonight —,”  
  
“You’ve been watching Carol tonight,” she snickers at him pointedly.  
  
Ezekiel opens his mouth to defend himself, then sighs, “Conceded.” He laughs lightly. “But I have been watching the others a bit too. I’ve even had to keep an eye on Jerry,” his voice is gruff, but amused.  
  
“I like Jerry.” Lupe smiles wide.  
  
Ezekiel grins. “Well, Jerry likes you too.” He winks.  
  
Lupe sighs dreamily. “Honestly, Prime Dude right there. I do have a boyfriend-guy-thing-at-the-end-of-the-world at home though, and I really care about him. Don’t know if he’s the sharing type. But if he is, Jerry’s on my queue.”  
  
Ezekiel laughs boisterously at that. “I’ve got to meet this boyfriend-etc of yours then. It’d be an honor to meet the man who seems to have enchanted the infamous Dita.”  
  
Lupe freezes and starts immediately shaking death into her fingertips. Adrenaline fuels her as she scrambles up, ready to bolt or burn the Kingdom down. Ezekiel jumps up and blocks her from the exit.   
  
“Get the fuck out of my way!” Lupe snarls at him. Barbacoa jumps in front of her and starts snarling at him too.  
  
Ezekiel puts up his hands, his words deliberate and careful, “I am not a threat to you.”  
  
Shiva yowls, a booming snarling thing.  
  
“I’m trying!” Ezekiel shouts back at her. He looks to Lupe. “I am not a threat and I will not harm you.”  
  
It takes Lupe a few blinks to get her brain back in her body. She quivers as she stares at Ezekiel. She turns away and starts pacing. Barbacoa follows behind her. Shiva paces inside of her cage, giving Ezekiel an annoyed pinched look. He scowls back at Shiva until Lupe speaks.  
  
“How do you know who I am?”   
  
Ezekiel has to cover his mouth slightly, keeping in a laugh. “I’m sorry, but you might laugh at the memory too. It was on one of our drops. You were obviously forced to attend. I remember you wearing an inappropriate-for-hiking LBD and silly shoes out in the deep woods. You looked furious the entire time. You ended up charging off into the forest to stop a walker from killing one of my soldiers. Negan lost it on you. You told him to, if I recall, ‘get fucked into the coldest hell on pluto,’ and he and several men had to toss you into his truck.” Ezekiel chuckles and his smile is wide. “I’m sorry, but seeing you defy Negan was one of the best things to happen to my accompaniment in months.”  
  
Lupe stops her pacing and drops her head in her hands. She lets out half a sob and half a laugh. That day was terrible. At the end of the night when they got back to the Sanctuary, that was one of the first times Negan raped her in his big black truck. She couldn’t argue that pissing him off felt like a win, but it never lasted. She was at least glad that she did supply the people of the Kingdom with something positive to keep them going. That felt better.  
  
“Shit, I can’t believe that was your group,” she mutters into her hands.  
  
“It was Jerry that noticed you first,” Ezekiel mentions with a smile. “I think he’s had a crush on you since that day.”  
  
Lupe laughs and shakes her head, “Oh Jerry…” She swallows a bit tightly, grimacing. “I’m sorry for not remembering that was you. It was a… bad day, in the end.”  
  
The animals start to calm again and Shiva stops giving him the stink eye. Ezekiel nods to Lupe and gestures for her to sit again. She complies, but sits against the wall, distant from the cage. Ezekiel sits perpendicular to her, his back to Shiva as he leans against the metal bars. The animals play, easing the room into peace.   
  
“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through at his hands, and I don’t expect you to justify anything either. Very few people willfully consent to anything regarding Negan,” Ezekiel says, voice so kind and level.  
  
Lupe nods sadly, snuffling out a bitter laugh. “So you understand what I’m trying to do?”  
  
Ezekiel leans back against the cage and Shiva rubs up against him. He reaches back to pet her and sighs. “I do. I very much do. I’m just concerned about the backfire.”   
  
She nods, wiping away stray tears that always have to escape whenever the shadow of Negan lingers. “You’re not the only one, which is why we are going to be very specific about what kind of evidence we leave. We’re going to cover our tracks and it won’t lead back to any of you. He still might bluster and bullshit, but I’m hoping to keep him distracted so he can’t do much harm. Redirection and all that, it works for toddlers.” She waves her hand about dismissively.  
  
Ezekiel snorts and grins wide. “An apt description.” He tries to catch her gaze, but she’s still shifty from his earlier revelation. “How do you intend to distract him?”  
  
Lupe nods, but it’s mostly to hype herself up. She’d been thinking about this part of the plan for a while. She knows it might be one of the riskiest aspects of their efforts to bring Negan to his knees, but it’s absolutely necessary. She sighs heavily and lets her lips flap on the air’s way out. She looks over at Ezekiel and deadpans, “I need him to keep thinking I’m dead. I need it to haunt him.”  
  
Ezekiel looks at her oddly and then a curious smile blooms on his lips. He nods to her and leans back against the cage again. Sighing lightly, he says, “As you know, the Saviors are not permitted in these walls.” He carefully looks in her direction. “If you need a refuge, you may come to me. The Kingdom will protect you.”   
  
Lupe smiles thinly at him. “Thanks. That might be… good.”  
  
Ezekiel grins. “Though you may want to ask your boyfriend about the boundaries of your relationship.” He turns to her, holding back a chuckle. Trying to look very serious, he croons, “my man Jerry does not play around.”  
  
Lupe can’t help but laugh. She nods, snickering into the back of her hand. “Okay, I’ll ask Daryl.”  
  
“Daryl?” Ezekiel scoffs, playfully unimpressed. “Child, your boyfriend has one hick ass name.”  
  
Lupe grins. “Well, he’s definitely a hick ass redneck, so it fits. It’d be weird if he was named Chad or some weird old man name like… Norman or Bernard.”  
  
Ezekiel chuckles easily. He levels a stare at Lupe that’s intense and pointed, but his smile is genuine. “Well, I have decided you and your people are welcome in my lands. The next time you come, I hope it’s to visit so I can meet this hick ass boyfriend of yours. Maybe we can have a good old fashioned knights tournament for your hand.”  
  
It was Lupe’s turn to grin. “Shit, no need for that. I got two hands!”  
  
Lupe and Ezekiel burst into laughter. They remained that way for a good portion of the rest of the night as they talked.


	49. Chapter 49

Lupe and Rick take about ten people to the Satellite outpost. With all of their recon, they have a decent grasp of the compound and when shifts change. When the new guards came on, the Alexandrians attacked, silently in the middle of the night.  
  
The guards outside went down like dominoes. Silenced gunshots punctured their chests from Sasha, Abraham, and Carol’s guns. Rick, Rosita, Daryl, Lupe, Aaron, and Jesus entered the compound and started their attack dressed as W’s. Michonne slipped in through a window and blocked the armory from the inside just in case. They managed to kill thirty Saviors while they slept, but around five woke up and tried to start a ruckus. That turned out alright, because it helped their plan with authenticity. No Alexandrians got hurt.  
  
Once the Saviors are taken out, everyone starts creating a massacre out of their relatively clean canvass. Lupe has the excellent opportunity to go back to her personal side mission. She found Simon in one of the last rooms and left him alive, nice and tied up. Because Rick and Daryl were on her team, they had zero qualms watching her and Barbacoa do their work. The W’s would have been impressed too.  
  
The small team ransacks the base and empties out almost half the guns and bullets as a sign of an attack. They toss Molotov’s in through windows and up against the outside walls, leaving the building scorched and burned almost hollow. They douse the lawn in gasoline and burn a W into the grass as a very specific warning. They trash whatever won’t be useful to them to take back to their hoard. They smear blood on every imaginable surface and throw viscera like confetti. Each Savior gets a particularly gruesome spread within the walls of the base, guaranteeing a nightmare for the next person to open the doors.  
  
Nearing sunrise the job is completed, the others return home while Lupe and Daryl take their half-score and hide it properly in the woods. The two get back and enjoy a full two days of peace together. On day three, they wake up to the rumbling of trucks barreling towards Alexandria.  
  
Daryl’s up and out of the house in seconds. Lupe carefully stumbles out of bed. Mornings are tougher on her body. Especially after the exertion of the last week in planning and executing their attack on the Satellite base. She’s trying to get dressed as fast as she can, but her body doesn’t want to cooperate. She ends up puking her guts out in the bathroom. An all too common side effect of her chronic illnesses and thankfully not a sign of pregnancy. She has a lot more years on her copper IUD, reinstalled right before the apocalypse hit. She was too damn lucky.  
  
There’s proof of that again as Daryl comes tearing back into the house. He has a bag in his hands. He hands it off to her as she reaches the bottom steps, already anxious, but still not completely awake.  
  
“Saviors are headed right here,” Daryl snarls, “ain’t slowin’ down neither.”  
  
“Okay.” Lupe leans up and kisses him on the lips. “I’ll get going to the woods and come back when they’re gone.”  
  
Daryl shakes his head. “Get yer ass to the Kingdom, they’re gonna be on a goddamn war path and you need to be long gone. They’ll search the woods for their things, I’m sure of it.” He grabs her and kisses her hard. “Please. Go to the Kingdom. We need to put on a parade for these fuckers and I can’t do that worrying about you. I’ll be pissy as all hell.”  
  
Lupe chuckles, “Alright, me and Barbacoa are heading to the Kingdom.” She kisses him softly one more time. They head out of the front door just as the sound of the truck engines rev.  
  
“Now!” Daryl snarls.  
  
The Saviors ram down the gates of Alexandria. Negan’s big black truck leads the charge. Lupe is very suddenly awake like her ass is on fire. She is down the drains and out into the forest like a lightning bolt with her little thunder cloud behind her. She doesn’t stop, and though it pains her, she doesn’t look back.  
  
The trucks squeal to a halt and Saviors come pouring out into the streets. Negan is roaring Rick’s name as the Alexandrians are being torn from their homes. Bright and early, each and every member of the community is brought out into the town square and shoved onto their knees. The Saviors crowd them in. The Alexandrians who never had to face down Negan’s true wrath are viscerally aware of their shortcomings.  
  
Rick and Carl get thrown into the center. Rick’s eyes scan the crowd and he sees Michonne not far away, kneeling and sitting on her heels. Judith clings to her and sobs, still in her ducky pajamas. His heart shatters seeing his daughter so distraught and he can’t move an inch. He looks over at Carl who is almost stone faced, aside from his quivering chin. He meets his father’s eyes and they share a gaze, deep with sorrow, love, and the fires of devotion.  
  
“Rick!” Negan roars and the Saviors split for him to come sauntering through. He stands crotch to face with Rick and looks down at him with a vitriolic hatred. “Rick, Rick, Rick,” he admonishes and slowly paces around the father and son.  
  
Negan stills behind them and Rick fights the need to look over his shoulder. He’s allowing his real fear to peek through. The safety of his son has been all that has mattered to him for so long. Now the scales are rearranging.  
  
“Oh Rick, this is just gonna make you sad,” Negan croons from behind. “You’re gonna wish you were dead.” His tone goes hateful and he starts to pace again, “Maybe you don’t think I’m really the guy who did what he did to your friends.” He stands before them glaring, bat on his shoulder and the red scarf wrapped around his neck. “But I am, Rick.” He kneels, glaring into Rick’s eyes and he bites out the rest, “I am that man and so much worse…” His eyes trail over to Carl, still struggling to stem his fear, but not even trying to hide his anger.  
  
“Because now,” Negan stands abruptly, looking out to the gathered Alexandrians, “I’m thinking you and all your people here need another fucking lesson. I’m thinking I have to start back at square one with all of you.” He turns back to Rick to roar, “I thought you knew well enough not to fuck with me!”  
  
Rick shakes, eyes widened as he looks up at Negan. He pleads, “What are you talking about? We’ve been doing everything you said. We’ve been scavenging and hunting and trying to find you what you need.”  
  
Negan chuckles darkly, glaring down at Rick. “You ever hear the one about the cocky little pig who thought he knew shit, but really didn’t know a thing? What do you know about my outpost?”  
  
“You’re what?” Rick stares up at him in confusion.  
  
Negan huffs hard, his eyes almost rolling. He licks at his teeth in annoyance and continues, “Story’s got a good message. See, this little prick of a pig decides to go destroy my outpost, and goes really fucking hard. He tears through my men like tissue paper in the dead of night and thinks he can get away with it.”  
  
Rick shakes his head furiously, sputtering, “We-we didn’t know about your outpost until right now! We’ve been busting our asses scavenging for you.”  
  
Negan fumes as he kneels to face Rick. “I personally saw what happened in there. You people are animals! The Universe gives you a sign, it shows you I’m your new goddamn god, and you just shove your middle finger right up its ass!” He grabs Rick by the throat, squeezing hard enough to choke. Carl gives a growling whine for his father’s grit teeth.  
  
“You know if I had a kid, I’d want him to be just like your boy.” Negan glances at Carl’s tear filled scowl. He shakes his head as if beleaguered. “That’s why this is so much harder. I have a feeling you’re lying to me, and I don’t like liars, Rick.” He smiles grimly. “That’s why I’m gonna kill your son right in front of you.”  
  
“We didn’t know!” Rick rails through his teary eyes and quivering. Saviors have to keep him on his knees as he tries to get between Negan and his son.  
  
“I don’t believe you Rick!” Negan roars and stands. He stomps over to Carl and the silence inside Alexandria is ear splitting. Rick can’t breathe. He knows he’ll kill Negan before he has a chance to hurt Carl, but he’ll put everyone else at risk.  
  
“I’m sorry, son,” Negan says. Carl looks up at him with a scowl and doesn’t blink.  
  
“Were there W’s!?” a feeble voice cries out.  
  
“Shut the fuck up!” a Savior snarls.  
  
Negan turns just in time to see a Savior slam the butt of his rifle into Carol’s face. She wails and crumples to the side, holding her cheek in her shaking hands. Negan storms through, grabs the rifle out of his stunned Savior’s hands, and cracks him across the face with it so hard he collapses. Negan throws the gun down on top of his unconscious man and a few Saviors step in and drag the limp body out of the way.  
  
Negan stomps up to Carol. “Say that again.”  
  
Carol looks up at him, lips and eyes fluttering in agony as she cradles her face and tries to get back up to kneel. “I — I asked if-if there were W’s,” she whimpers.  
  
Negan’s eyes go wide. “How would you know that? You would only know that if you did it!” he snarls.  
  
Carol cowers away from him, sobbing. She shakes her head back and forth, blubbering, “We-we didn’t! We-we-we were attacked too!” Her voice cracks and whines, “I-I-I told you, when you first came,” she shudders at his feet and sniffles, “about the strangers that attacked us, d-destroyed our goods, and-and killed our people.” Her eyes flow again and her face crumples in despair. “Please don’t tell me they harmed your people too.”  
  
Negan eases up and glares at Rick hard. “What’s this about?”  
  
Rick shakes on his aching knees. “It was a large group of… people… they divorced themselves from civility and decency. They tore through our community a while back. Massacred a lot of our own, but we managed to push them back. Their attempt to ram our gate was stopped by one of our best shots. We had some guns when they had none, but… we didn’t exactly win…” He shakes his head and there’s palpable grief in the group that no one has to fake. The W’s were a terrifying threat.  
  
Negan gets riled. “So you’re telling me, you could have stopped them killing other people if you’d have just had the balls?” He scoffs loudly. “Fine, if these assholes killed my men, where the fuck are they?”  
  
From within the crowd of Alexandrians, Daryl speaks, “I tried to hunt’em down, but they don’t have a base. They keep moving and killin’, just like the dead. Tracked them for miles and never found one of’em.”  
  
Negan glares. “Thank you Daryl, but since I didn’t fuckin’ ask you, Vic, shut his ass up.” The man named Vic kicks Daryl in the stomach, but Daryl was already braced for the impact. He doesn’t falter very much and maintains his glare at Negan.  
  
Negan gives him a fiery smile in response. He laughs, low and slow. “Oh Daryl, you keep courting me like this and we might have a problem.” He looks around at the gathered Alexandrians and sighs. “You are all fucking weak. And I don’t intend to let you stay that way.” He looks over at Simon with a grin. “Grab the kid and lay him face down. We need to really drive a few points home.”  
  
“No!” Rick snarls and tries to get up. A Savior is there with a gun in his face.  
  
“Dad!” Carl says as the Saviors grab him and drag him in front of Negan. It’s not a plea for help, it’s a plea for caution.  
  
“Don’t do this!” Rick growls at Negan.  
  
“Careful!” Negan shouts and grins wide. His voice goes deep, laced with threats, “Careful Rick… You do not tell me to do, or not do anything. I get to choose.”  
  
The Saviors throw Carl into the dirt at Negan’s feet, pulling on his hands and legs until he’s starfished on the ground. Negan steps over Carl as he swings his bat back and forth casually. He saunters all the way back to Rick, flipping the bat in his hands and holding the knob end right at Rick’s nose. Rick looks up the barrel until his eyes meet Negan’s, doing his best to keep the hate off his face.  
  
Negan smiles. “I want you to break his arm.”  
  
Rick’s glare doesn’t falter. “No.”  
  
Negan sighs and hits Rick across the face with the back end of the bat and leans down, roaring, “I want you to break his arm or I’ll put a fucking bullet in his head!”  
  
Rick’s face folds in sorrow and repressed rage. Tears stream down his cheeks. He shakes his head furiously and tries not to scream.  
  
“Dad…”  
  
The voice is so soft Rick struggles to find the source. He knows it’s from Carl, his voice is imprinted in his heart and he’ll never forget it. But Rick doesn’t want to look. He doesn’t want to do this. He’ll not abandon Carl. He’ll not deny him. Rick’s reddened eyes wander to his son.  
  
Carl looks at him with tears in his uncovered eye and he nods his head. “It’s okay, dad.”  
  
Negan rolls his eyes and whirls away from Rick. He pulls a gun from behind his back and stalks over to Carl. He stands next to the child’s shoulder and takes aim at his head. “Make a fucking decision Rick!” he bellows.  
  
“Stop!” Rick snarls. He grits his teeth and bites back the wave of rage that tells him to start ripping out throats and never stop. He stands slowly and glances around the gathered group of Alexandrians. Everyone is in a state, sobbing, shaking, and positively terrified. He despises all of this. As he goes to look back at Negan, his eyes fall on Denise. She’s quivering and trying to breathe through a tight o-shaped mouth, curled up in on herself. But she stares at him, and the hand that holds herself together slides to her forearm. She taps a spot with her index finger. He makes sure he remembers it.  
  
Rick’s head swivels back to Negan. He extends his hand as he approaches. Negan grins wide as he tucks the gun behind his back and hands over Lucille.  
  
Negan pulls it back teasingly, and grins. “Treat her right Rick, or she’ll let you know. I promise you that.” He shoves the bat into Rick’s chest, the barbed wire barrel a breath away from his cheek.  
  
Rick bites back the urge to slam the bat through Negan’s face. Carl lays still, not fighting the men who hold him on the ground. Negan flits his hand and the men pull back, leaving Rick standing over Carl with the barbed wire bat.  
  
“I’m sorry…” Rick sobs and swallows it down.  
  
“It’s not you, dad.” Carl swallows and Rick sees him shake just for a moment before he closes his eye. “He needs to hurt someone and he just wants to make sure you’re really hurt too.”  
  
Rick wails through the swing that comes from over his head. It hits Carl’s arm and there’s a splash of blood and a loud crack. Carl screams and tears pour down his cheeks. Rick drops the bat and collapses next to his child, he bends over Carl and they both cry. Rick grips his son and begs for forgiveness.  
  
Carl cries through a grit teeth grimace. He’s still in the dirt, mud on his cheeks from mixing with his tears. He looks up at Negan and snarls, “Deanna was right about you.” He huffs out agonized breaths through lips stretched thin. “You can break my arm. You can terrorize my family. It may not be today, it might not be tomorrow, but Negan, you will fall. You are not worthy of the future, you are just the death throes of our miserable past.” Anger seeps into Carl’s tone and it shakes with the depth of his pain. “Don’t you get it?” he snarls through trembling lips, “You’re all already dead!”  
  
Negan chuckles darkly, pleased with how Rick cowers and sobs, but he can’t deny this kid is getting under his skin. “You’ve got a mouth on you, kid.” He sighs. “Like my old man always said, Never Spare the Rod." Negan raises his foot and stomps down on Carl’s arm.  
  
Carl screams so much worse than the last time.  
  
Rick roars and jumps up, tackling Negan and slamming him into the ground. Chaos is unleashed. Several people start fighting back. The Saviors swarm in fast like the insects they are. They pull people apart, throw the Alexandrians on the ground, stomping, kicking, and beating whoever puts up a fight.  
  
A gun shot sounds.  
  
A body falls.  
  
The hole in Olivia’s forehead starts to seep red and the Alexandrians all scream.  
  
Negan laughs with the smoking gun in his hand.  
  
Carl writhes on the ground and wails. Rick’s held down by several Saviors, bleeding from cuts and gashes on his face, and sputtering blood into the dirt. He doesn’t look away from his son.  
  
Negan steps into his line of sight and sighs, amused. “That was a shit move, Rick. I had to kill that cute chubby chick because you had to have a huge fuckin fit over a couple measly little bones!” He laughs and leans down to Rick. “You chose to do that.” His eyes go empty along with the cruel slash of his smile. “I truly don’t know what more I could’ve done to warn you. There aren’t any more warnings. This is punishment now.”  
  
He stands and raises his arms with a wide shit eating grin, “Take their clothes and blankets and bring’em out boys!” He drops his arms and glares over towards Daryl, being held down with a gun to his head, also bleeding and beat. Negan smiles and gets an idea. “In order to make sure y’all don’t try to pull any shit on me, I think I’ll take myself a few,” he bends his face convincingly with the lie, “visitors to come back with me. They can get a real good taste of living at my compound.” He raises his bat and points it at Daryl. “I’m starting to get my heart set on turning you over to my team, so we’ll start with you.”  
  
“NO!” Both Rick and Daryl growl and wail at the same time. It takes several Saviors to get Daryl to move. It’s only after there’s a scrabble and he’s been rendered unconscious that he’s easy to get in the back of the truck.  
  
Negan glances around winningly. His eyes center in on Michonne grasping a sobbing Judith, reaching out towards Rick and Carl. His eyebrows rise and he takes a few steps towards the baby before he hears a voice.  
  
“I’ll go!”  
  
He turns and Carol’s standing there, her arms up as she’s surrounded by Saviors. She’s shaking and it’s obvious she’s been crying, but Negan saunters up to her anyway. “You ready to shirk your responsibilities and finally let me show you a good time?”  
  
Carol sniffles and nods, “I’ll go with you.”  
  
Negan grins wide and looks down at Rick. The Saviors step back and he crawls over to his son, sobbing. He cowers over Carl, looking between Carol and the men dragging Daryl away. Carl curls against his father and cries silently.  
  
Negan chuckles, but his voice is grim, “Let this be a reminder, Rick. Do not fuck with me.”  
  
Rick nods airily, looking shattered as he holds his sobbing son. He lets his eyes flutter as Negan blusters. He glances at Carol momentarily to make sure she knows what she’s doing. She’s crying into the back of her hand. She curves her fingers until they make a circle with her thumb, she quickly flicks them out, last two tucked in, pointer straight out, middle extended down, and thumb sticking between the two. Rick knew they had plans, but if Carol decided to burn down the Sanctuary, he wouldn’t exactly complain. To be sure, he worried for Daryl more. He knew Carol would do her best to take care of him.  
  
Negan stays eerily silent while his men work. Everyone continues kneeling, except for Carl’s broken body, Rick’s broken soul, Daryl whose unconscious in the back of his truck, and Carol who shivers by his side. The Saviors not gathered to threaten the Alexandrians into compliance, start carrying out blankets and clothes from all the houses. Eventually a mound grows in the town square and the forced patience grows thin.  
  
Negan leaves Alexandria with all his men, plus Carol and Daryl in tow. He leaves Carl bleeding on the ground with the rest of Alexandria on her knees. They’re left to watch as their clothes and blankets catch fire. They’re left to face the flames of the hell that yearns to eat them all away.


	50. Chapter 50

Ezekiel has trouble sleeping sometimes. The stresses of his Kingdom are one thing, but the stresses of the outside world have taken on a whole new meaning. They’ve been lucky at the Kingdom, relatively secluded and hidden away in a patch of a no longer used University. They managed for a very long time before the Saviors came.  
  
Ezekiel lost several friends to them. It changed him in a way he didn’t think was possible. He became willing to deal with the devil. He always thought he was a strong and decent man. He tried to be good, even if he felt like he was such a small part of something that needed to be much, much larger. He’d fought before. He’d gone to war before. He lost too much.  
  
As he was wont to do when he couldn’t sleep, Ezekiel made his way to spend some time with Shiva. He enters the room and the first thing he sees is a black dog with gold eyes trotting up to him with a wildly wagging body. He’s shocked, but not enough to not notice the person lying at the base of Shiva’s cage, curled up in a ball and using her arms for pillows.  
  
“Lupe?” Ezekiel asks softly, but she doesn’t stir. He frowns slightly then looks over at Shiva. “Shiva, paw.” The tigress lays next to the woman, inside the cage as she grooms. She looks up almost disinterestedly, but her paw reaches out and nudges Lupe’s body.  
  
Lupe whirls around on the ground like she’s an alligator in the middle of a death roll. Her gun is out and she’s pointing it in the vague direction of Ezekiel as she blinks away her nightmares. Her eyes narrow at him and she suddenly relaxes, melting into the ground with a shuddering sigh. She shakily tucks her gun back into its holster.  
  
“Sorry,” she mutters from where her face is mushed into the floor. “I didn’t want to alarm the gates in the middle of the night.”  
  
Ezekiel chuckles as he approaches and kneels next to her, “I did say you were welcome to come to me. I suppose I should have been more specific .”  
  
A throaty chuckle rumbles out Lupe’s throat as she rolls onto her back. There are tears in her eyes. “Negan came for Alexandria this morning.” She blinks hard and rubs her face. “I think it was this morning.” She sits up slowly and Ezekiel helps her. She nods her thanks to him and tries not to shudder. “We hit the outpost by Hilltop a few days ago, so he’s lashing out.” She grits her teeth and a held-back sob shakes her chest and shoulders. “I-I don’t know what he’s done to them.”  
  
Ezekiel nods and steadies her as best as he can without touching her too much. “Your friends are strong, just like you. Otherwise they never would have agreed to do what you’re doing.” He chuckles softly. “As a coward myself, I feel great grief that we didn’t step up to help you and try to disperse Negan’s suspicion.”   
  
Lupe shakes her head. “No, no that’s not your weight to carry. I don’t want to fight the Saviors.” She looks over at Ezekiel and her stare is bleak. “I want to destroy them. I can’t ask anyone else to be willing to do what I am to take them out.” She shakes her head but her voice steadies, “I can’t stop until Negan is dead.”  
  
Ezekiel nods. “I can understand that feeling.”  
  
“So why don’t you want him dead?” Lupe asks, trying to calm herself.  
  
“Let’s get you up, get some food and water, then a bed. We can talk while we do so.” He helps her stand and Barbacoa follows the two of them after they say goodbye to Shiva. “I do want Negan dead,” Ezekiel tells Lupe, “he killed some of my people, true friends, some time ago.” He shakes his head. “I’m also tired of death. I want to wash my hands of it.”  
  
Lupe snorts. “Death walks these days. In the shambling of those who’ve passed and in our own two feet. We are death walking.”  
  
Ezekiel chuckles back. “You’re not wrong. But we always were. We are all capable of horrific things. All of us are shambling towards our own demise. We’re all slinking closer and closer to the day we’ll leave this mortal coil,” Ezekiel finishes with his grand tone. Lupe grins and chuckles. “So, as of now, we remain as we are, living until we stop.”  
  
They get into the kitchen and Jerry’s there at the stove. “Oh hey guys!” His smile splits his face and fills the room with warmth like a space heater. “I’m just makin’ some spam sandwiches, you want some?”  
  
“Jerry…” Ezekiel says in that same short toned way.  
  
Lupe grins though. “Ohhhhhh, you got spam!?” She rushes towards Jerry. “You got any avocado too?”   
  
Jerry starts nodding and smiling. “Yup! Let me make you up a sandwich. You just get in?”  
  
Lupe crinkles her nose. “Kinda.”  
  
“You snuck in?” Jerry asks, agog. He squints at her with playful irritation. “I should make you run tests on our security.” Lupe laughs. Jerry looks to Ezekiel. “You want one, boss?”  
  
Ezekiel smiles and nods. He invites Lupe to sit at the breakfast bar while Jerry fries up some spam and eggs for their sandwiches. “Thank you Jerry.” Jerry smiles back at him, beaming like the sun. Ezekiel grins wide at his friend and shakes his head. He looks over at Lupe, who’s enjoying their interaction.  
  
“I am pleased to see you,” Ezekiel says, “despite what you are going through. You may stay as long as needed.” He nods and grins. “Enjoy the fruits of our grandeur,” he raises an arm and sort of wiggles it towards Jerry and the spam, “so long as you contribute.” He winks at her. “Drink from the well, replenish the well.”  
  
“Well said.” Jerry grins over his shoulder, winking with the pun.  
  
Ezekiel goes through a sensory shut down because of the bad joke, deflating slightly. “…Jerry,” he admonishes. Lupe giggles into her hand so hard she’s not sure she can breathe.  
  
Jerry trots on over, kitchen towel over his shoulder, and a basket of fruit in his hands. “It’s fruit time!” Jerry giggles and places the bowl in front of Ezekiel and Lupe.  
  
They dig in. Lupe wants to cry. She holds a strawberry up to her face like the Eucharist. “Amen…” She nods to it, takes a bite, and groans for several minutes.   
  
Jerry joins them soon with plates stacked high with sandwiches and potato chips he made himself. He was a cook in another life. They chat companionably about the Kingdom and how it flourishes. Jerry jokes about feeding pigs the undead and then carting them off to Saviors in a few days. Lupe finds that undeniably pleasing and wishes she could be there to watch Negan eat it. Ezekiel talks about teaching some of the children martial arts. A surprisingly helpful practice with the constant trauma they endure, even in a place like the Kingdom. Eventually, Jerry leaves them to rest for the night, throwing up a peace sign and shouting “dueces!” as he walked out the door.  
  
Ezekiel and Lupe sit for a while, picking at the remnants of their food.  
  
Lupe sighs. Her voice shakes as she asks, “Do you ever think trying to keep places like this going — trying to keep being good people — you ever think it’s all just a fairy tale? That maybe we aren’t better than our basest instincts?”  
  
Ezekiel looks at her and then slowly gets up and wanders towards the cabinets. He picks something off of a very high shelf and brings it over. It’s a small wooden box, shiny and well cared for. He carries it towards her and then flicks his head for her to follow. She does, and they head outside to a patio where some chairs and a small table are. Ezekiel sits in a chair and Lupe falls into one too.   
  
He opens the box and it’s satin lined, divided into two compartments filled with hand rolled cigarettes. He positions it so she can see and offers it up, pointing to one side, “Tobacco,” then the other, “Cannabis, sativa hybrids if I recall.”  
  
“King and a God, we should be calling you Jesus!” she exclaims. “I would love you forever for a blunt.”  
  
Ezekiel smiles. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He hands her a pre-roll and a lighter.   
  
She eagerly lights up and takes a steady inhale. On the exhale, she glances towards him with eyebrows raised. Despite clearing her throat, she still croaks, “Weed, my good sir? In my good Christian Kingdom?”  
  
Ezekiel laughs on his exhale. “We started growing to replace medication where we could. It helped many of our community members, from those with chronic pain, epilepsy, and even some psych disorders, like anxiety or PTSD.” He nods to Lupe. “This Kingdom is less Christian and more knowledge-based. Though we do allow for personal belief practices.”  
  
“Of course,” Lupe mocks his Kingly tone with her own very bad one. She grins. “That’s such a good idea. I’m glad it helps people.”  
  
“Me too.” He nods. “To answer your question, if surviving like this is a fairy tale… I refute it. Perhaps people need the fairy tale, like the contradiction is the point. People want to feel safe, they want someone to follow, to work with, to survive with. We’re a cooperative species, after all. Safety, security, health, water, food, walls, all those things make people less dangerous and more willing to work together. Things were difficult for so many. Things still are so difficult. The lesson we must learn is that survival is less of a grand gesture and more of the smaller things we see between the tragedies.” He looks at the lit cherry in the darkness and then over to Lupe. “Do you enjoy the smaller things? Can you?”  
  
Lupe shrugs hard and takes a pull. She waits, exhales, and coughs into her arm and jacket to muffle the sound. “I try, but it’s difficult. I feel like if I’m not scared, I’m just empty, and I don’t know how to make it stop.” She looks up at him. “It’s like if my mind isn’t occupied, it’s anxious about something. But if I stop to actually let myself think, everything just wisps away.” She huffs petulantly. “At least when I’m not thinking about Negan. He’s just… always there. Waiting in the wings to fuck up my life.”  
  
“Does anyone else know about your past with him?” Ezekiel asks.  
  
Lupe feels warmed by the effort he put into not insinuating anything about her choices. It was sensitive. “Some of the people in Alexandria and all of the group you met. Daryl, of course.” She chuckles emptily. “I thought they were Saviors at first, I totally freaked. Tried to kill Daryl twice. But they didn’t know anything about Negan. I tried to keep it a secret. I didn’t really know where I was when they found me. I hoped that maybe if I just never said or thought his name, he would just be… gone.” She snorts. “Fucking pathetic.”  
  
“Some see secrets as a privilege,” Ezekiel starts, but his tone bottoms out and there’s despair in each breath, “they are burdens. They are the cost. The cost of our survival sometimes, but still a cost. I’m sorry you shouldered that alone, but I’m also glad you no longer have to. You are definitely not pathetic.”  
  
She shrugs. “Negan was going to find Alexandria eventually. We’re all so close to one another, it’s surprising it didn’t happen sooner. He’s just… so absurd. He’s so obsessed with power. And if he wasn’t such a soulless asshole, I’d actually feel sad for him. He’s completely empty on the inside. All he has is his shadow now.”  
  
Ezekiel nods. His next question is hesitant, but not accusatory. Still just so sensitive. “Do you care for him?”  
  
Lupe almost wretches at the question, but something inside of her twists along with it, weak and sad. “No, not in any sort of healthy way. He made me think I needed him at a time when I had nothing. What he did to me was monstrous, and I want him dead. But he confused me. He abused me. He twisted everything I believed about who I am and who I can be. He made me feel…”  
  
“Empty,” Ezekiel supplies, “he wanted you to feel empty, just like him. He can’t rise up out of it, not on his own. But he would never accept help and never admit to being weak. His poison is power, and he can’t let go of that. So he wants to bring us all down into the depths of his hell.” He shakes his head with a rueful laugh. Something distant, but familiar snakes it’s way into his tone, “It makes it almost worse when you know it’s still not even really about you. Even though you almost want the blame. Because you can actually take it all out on yourself. Abusive relationships are all about the bleak depths of insecurity.”  
  
“God… that’s so fucking spot on.” Lupe leans back hard in her chair on her inhale. She melts a bit into the seat, feeling a large swell of pain relief. She is exhausted, she knows she’ll ache for days after making her way to the Kingdom. She barely even felt high, but her body was able to siphon off some to ease her agony, and that was more than enough. “You go through it too?”  
  
Ezekiel nods. “Bad boyfriend in my twenties. Not Negan-bad mind you, but bad enough to make me read just about everything I could get my hands on about abuse. I almost died while I was with him. I didn’t want to live anymore. I knew it had to be better than that.”  
  
Lupe scoffs and it’s half a sob. She shakes her head, “It’s fucked, isn’t it?”  
  
“Love and compliance are not the same,” he bites out. “It took me a bit too long to learn that.” He tilts his head back in the chair and blinks the tears from his eyes. “I’m glad you escaped.”  
  
“I don’t feel like I have,” her response is an immediate and brittle thing.  
  
Ezekiel sits up and looks towards Lupe. He extends his open hand, an offering of comfort. “You will.”   
  
She slowly takes it and they sit back and enjoy the night despite the demons on their backs.


	51. Chapter 51

A few days later, Lupe is still at the Kingdom. Anxious. Just so exhaustingly anxious. There’s been no news from Alexandria or Hilltop and she is terrified she made the wrong choice in trying to help them eliminate Negan. They should have just run.  
  
She’s working in the gardens, mostly doing as she’s told and following the directions someone else gives her. The activity is nice, but she’s often sore from all the up and down. She was actually really grateful when Ezekiel offered her some of his pre-rolls for her pain. It helped her feel immensely better each day. She never realized just how nauseated, tired, and hurt she was all the time until she actually experienced relief. It’s an additional benefit to being at the Kingdom. Even though she’s ready to gnaw her arm off from her inner stress.  
  
Barbacoa is with her today. Lupe usually got abandoned so that Barbacoa could go play and lounge with Shiva. Lupe tries not to feel a little betrayed, but often fails. The sun is nice though, and the breeze is cool and sweet. Today, she decides she doesn’t want to be bitter for one second.  
  
As she gathers some more of the weeds the gardeners lay out for her, Barbacoa’s head perks up. Lupe thought she heard the sound of a car. It isn’t exactly uncommon. There’s some shouting up at the front gates. It doesn’t sound all that aggressive, and it’s too far to parse out. Barbacoa jumps up and trots off. She stands several yards away, facing the main gate, and her tail slowly starts wagging. Her body thrashes, she rears back onto her hind legs, and then she is off like a shot.  
  
Lupe gets up, confused, and chases after her, muttering curses and already breaking her promise to herself. She jogs after the dog all the way to the gate. A few of the Kingdom’s guards are on top of the tower, looking down at something over the wall. With the way Barbacoa excitedly waggles and snuffles at the cracks, Lupe doesn’t think it’s walkers. It’s much more indicative of someone the dog knows. Lupe’s heart flutters.  
  
“Open the gate!” she demands, for no good reason. She runs forward and looks up at the two guards. “Hey! What’s happening? Can you open these things?” She slams her hands on the two giant doors. ”Hey!”  
  
Alvaro peeks down at her. “It’s a car. It just rammed into some of the dead as it stopped. There’s people inside, I think. But there’s some gore and shit. I can’t get a good look.”  
  
Lupe flattens herself against the gate and presses her eye to the seam of the doors. She sees a pretty nondescript sedan, something round like an old Saturn or a Sebring. The windows are splashed and dirty, so visibility is shit just like Alvaro says. Lupe is about to climb up on top of the wall with Alvaro when the car door slowly creaks open and bounces on its hinges. A body stumbles out. Lupe sees a bright flash of silvery hair.  
  
“OPEN IT!” Lupe wails. The guards listen to that kind of devastating sound. Barbacoa squeezes out first and runs out to bounce around Carol as she stumbles to her feet, using the car door to stand.  
  
“Oh my god, are you okay?” Lupe tries to keep in her screams. Carol is covered with blood and viscera. Her clothes are torn up with claw and bite marks everywhere. Lupe can’t stop shaking. Carol finally looks as willowy as her act.  
  
“We —,” she rasps. Lupe immediately fumbles for her water and hands it to her. Carol drinks carefully. She breathes, deeply relieved by just the simple sip. She nods slowly until she gains back her strength and blinks her bright eyes at Lupe. “We escaped.”  
  
“From where?” Lupe asks, gobsmacked. Her voice shakes as she peeks in the darkened car, “We?”  
  
Barbacoa is trying to get in through the front door, clambering up because she can’t jump with Carol in the way. She’s whining like mad, back feet scratching, scrambling, and swinging in the air until she gets all the way up. Lupe looks back to Carol and Carol nods once with a truly quivering lip. Lupe has to prepare herself for something even worse than she can think up. This was Negan. She knows.  
  
“Alvaro!” Lupe calls out in half a sob, “I need you to get Carol!”  
  
Once Lupe sees Alvaro’s blue-ish blur in the corner of her eye, she’s around the car as fast as her legs will move. She rips open the door and does her best not to sob. Barbacoa sits in the drivers seat and her head lays gently on the small center console. Her entire body wiggles, but she waits. She waits for him, but he doesn’t move. He’s a gray and beige puff of dirt and blood. He’s barefoot and shaking, and Lupe can’t see his face. But she knows.  
  
His name is just an agonized breath that drops from her lips, jumping towards its fate. “Daryl?”  
  
He twitches hard. She’s keeping her tears at bay by not moving an inch, not breathing. He tweaks his head and blinks hard in her direction a few times. He rushes to crawl out of the car, but it’s like he can’t control his own body, each limb escaping independently. He uses the car door to propel himself at her. She doesn’t know how, but she’s able to stop them both from collapsing till he gets a leg under him. He’s gripping at her the entire time, hands fisting in her jacket before shaking away to grab a limb and test it in his hand. He pulls back, holds her away from him, just barely. His hands grip at her shoulders like he doesn’t want to let go.  
  
“This real?” his voice is a despondent crack.  
  
“Por supuesto, mi cielo…” she murmurs. Her hands quake as they reach up to the sides of his head, holding him tenderly and tight. He wholly quivers, but his hands jump straight to her face, spreading his fingers across her cheeks. “I got you, Daryl. It’s okay. I see you. You’re here. I’m here.”  
  
His face crinkles and tears leak out of his eyes as he nods into her. She starts pressing kisses to his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, his nose. She whispers her spell of kindness and it breathes the life back into him.  
  
“Negan took us,” Daryl grunts. The words grate out his throat so she pulls out her canteen for him too. He gulps down water fast. It dribbles out of his mouth and down the front of him, but he doesn’t care. “He came into Alexandria pissed as all hell and roughed everyone up.” He swallows hard. “He made Rick break Carl’s arm with that fucking bat.”  
  
Lupe bites back her sob because it’s not her right to cry. She did this to them. “Is everyone okay?”  
  
Daryl shakes his head and starts to falter. She gets under his arm and helps him limp inside the Kingdom. “I dunno. Carol managed to convince Negan the outpost was the W’s work, but he punished us for lettin’em ‘get away’ when they attacked us. They knocked me out after Carl got his arm broke and Olivia got killed. Carol says Saviors burned up clothes and blankets as they left. She don’t know if everyone was okay after Negan took us,” he finishes as they approach the gates.  
  
“I’m so sor—,”  
  
Daryl pushes Lupe behind him before she can finish. Even though he’s limping hard on one leg, he steadies himself and crouches like he’s ready for a fight. Lupe holds onto his back, trying to get him to stop wobbling. Then she sees what he sees over his shoulder.  
  
In the wide span of the open gates, Ezekiel stands, staff in hand, wearing his large coat, with Shiva growling by his side.  
  
“That a —,” Daryl shakes his head, “that a real fucking tiger?”  
  
Barbacoa barks and then runs over to Ezekiel. She bounds around Shiva who turns up her face at the dog’s big tongue. Lupe chuckles airily. “Yeah, it’s a real tiger and she’s nice.” Lupe swoops back under his arm as he blinks and shakes his head, gnawing at his bruised lip. “The guy at the other end of the lead is real nice too. I promise.” Daryl gives her a strained, cautious look, but nods.  
  
“Welcome to the Kingdom, I am King Ezekiel,” Ezekiel says with his full flourish, but there’s an obvious tension along his brow. He steps closer and his voice turns low and grim, “As I told our friends Carol and Lupe, the Saviors do not step foot past these walls. You are safe here.”  
  
Daryl grunts, “Ain’t safe anywhere till that fucker Negan is dead.”  
  
Lupe sighs and carries him in. Two Kingdom soldiers try to approach and help her. Daryl snarls them off, almost falling down trying to rip away from their hands. Carol stands up from where she was eating and drinking for the first time in a few days. She comes over to help Lupe calm him down. King Ezekiel stands by and watches.  
  
“Can you send your doctor over to my room?” Lupe asks and he nods. She looks between Carol and Daryl. “My room has a shower too. We’ll get you cleaned up and you can both rest.” They both nod silently.  
  
Lupe guides them to the building where Ezekiel let her stay. His own private residence is nearby and she wants to feel special because of it, but she can’t. Carol looks truly shaken, and she’s never seen Daryl in such a state. Lupe tries her best not to blame herself, but she knows she has to take responsibility for what she’s wrought in their lives.  
  
They get Daryl on Lupe’s bed. A few people from the Kingdom shuffle in and out while they get Daryl undressed so the doctor can assess his injuries. Carol begs off attention from the doctor. She has no injuries, so she goes to shower. Daryl, however needs to be treated for some rather serious wounds. Long jagged slashes across his skin, cigarette burns, and stripes of angry red welts that stay bruised. Once the doctor is gone and Daryl passes out on Lupe’s bed, her and Carol sit while Carol gets to eat and drink.  
  
“He came for Alexandria, just like you said.” Carol sniffles. “He was incensed, just like you said.” She nods and finally looks up at Lupe. “If you didn’t warn us, I’m not sure what would have happened. So thank you.”  
  
“Th-thank—?” Lupe chokes. She shakes her head violently and her whisper is harsh, “Don’t thank me! Look at what he did to you! Look at what I brought on you! I should have never —,”  
  
“Lupe, stop…” Carol says, her voice airy and kind. She shakes her head. “He was always coming for us. Always. You told us that he’d hurt us. You told us the kind of man he is. We knew this was coming.”  
  
“Doesn’t make it right!” Lupe hisses and her eyes flutter over to Daryl. She puts her face into her hands. “What did they do to him?”  
  
Carol sighs. “I don’t know about all of it. I saw what you did, all the proof is on his skin.” Carol bites back tears. It’s obvious she cares so much about him it eats her up. “We were both kept in the cells, but I had a cot and food. Negan would usually bring me out to see the complex each day. I saw Daryl twice in the four days we were there. He was forced to work in that goddamn moat, barefoot and beat to hell. Otherwise, I think they mostly just tortured him.”  
  
Lupe sobs, biting her jacket to keep quiet. “Did Negan — are you —?”  
  
Carol shakes her head. “I’m alright. He didn’t touch me, though I suspect he planned to. I think he wanted Daryl and I to switch sides, so he was trying to play his game of threats and seduction. The second time I saw Daryl was during a punishment where Negan burned the face of a man named Henry with an iron. Daryl looked worse than the first time, and I knew we needed to get out.”  
  
Lupe’s head shoots up. “Not Tanya’s Henry?”  
  
Carol squinted her eyes in confusion. “Tanya?”  
  
Lupe nodded. “One of Negan’s wives…”  
  
Carol shakes her head. “Unfortunately, I don’t know. I’m sorry.”  
  
Lupe puts up a quivering hand. “No, I’m sorry, that was rude to interrupt you. How did you escape?”  
  
Carol shudders heavily. “I managed to steal some packing tape and put it over the strike plate on the cell door, so the next time they closed it, the lock didn’t latch. I wasn’t seen as a big threat, so they treated me pretty gingerly. I didn’t have anyone really watching me, cause I mostly just slept there.” She looks up at Lupe. “So I waited and went and got Daryl that night while the guards were blasting music. They didn’t hear us escape and we closed and locked the doors behind us. On the way out we tried to leave some evidence to make it look like we got eaten up in the pit, but we were rushing a bit. That’s why my clothes looked so bad, I stole them off a walker and left the others behind.”  
  
Lupe nods and a quivering smile stretches her face. “That’s fast fucking thinking.”  
  
Carol smirks. “Thanks.”  
  
“So are you both okay?” Lupe asks. “The Sanctuary, it’s… not a good place.”  
  
Carol nods hard. “You’re right. It’s not. We only got a taste of your suffering, and it was honestly so miserable. I’m glad you survived it.”  
  
Lupe’s lips quiver and she has to drop her head. “I’m sorry I brought this all on you.”  
  
Carol laughs, her face bending with a fond pity. “He would have found us either way. We wouldn’t have kneeled then, and we won’t now.”  
  
Lupe exhales through a shaky sob. “You can sleep here. I won’t let anyone hurt you two. Climb on the other side of the bed with Daryl and get some rest. I’ll see about getting you both rooms once you wake up.”  
  
Carol’s features twist in confusion. “Daryl will want to stay with you.”  
  
Lupe swallows and it’s difficult. “Will he? After what Negan did to him?”  
  
Carol gapes. “Especially because of that! He’ll need you Lupe. He won’t tell me what happened, I just know he was tortured by looking at him. Probably for information and probably to sway his allegiances. You know Negan better than any of us. Daryl needs you. Because you did it. You undid all the wrongs the Saviors tried to do to you. He’ll need to know it’s possible.”  
  
Lupe cringes. “I feel like I’ve failed him, failed you, failed everyone…”  
  
Carol leans forward and ticks up Lupe’s chin with the gentlest of touches, something compassionate and pure. “We haven’t finished what we started. We can’t call it a failure yet. We have Negan rattled and ruined one-third of the way. We can’t fail because he’s already doing it to himself. The Sanctuary is a buzzing mess because of the loss of the outpost.” She smiles so tenderly the tears in Lupe’s eyes finally have a cause to fall. “I promise you, no one will blame you for Negan’s choices.” Her voice goes hard, but the glint in her eye is keen. “We won’t let them.”  
  
Lupe nods and Carol opens her arms. They wrap each other up in a tight hug. They don’t let go until King Ezekiel makes his presence known at the door, quiet and patient. He nods to Lupe and Carol, beckoning them to follow. Lupe doesn’t want to get too far from Daryl. She knows what it feels like to wake up somewhere strange after having everything about you ripped to pieces. They stop in the hall and Ezekiel looks grim.  
  
“How do you fare?” he asks both of them. Lupe just nods.  
  
Carol grins at him, eyeing him up and down. “We fare just fine,” she replies with her practiced smile and empty eyes. The perfect little homemaker slots into place.  
  
“You don’t have to be fake with each other,” Lupe admonishes them. Both Carol and Ezekiel give her a hard stare. “I mean, you can, if you really want to, but, like, you both see right through it.”  
  
Carol chuckles first and sighs. “We spent about four days at Negan’s compound, The Sanctuary. I was treated pretty civilly, in comparison to Daryl at least. I’m exhausted from the escape, but just food, water, and rest will be fine.”  
  
Ezekiel nods to Carol. “We’ll do whatever we can to care for him, for you both, while you’re here.”  
  
Carol returns the nod. Lupe asks, “Would it be possible to find two extra rooms?”  
  
Ezekiel frowns. “Is that not your Daryl?”  
  
Lupe fiddles with her fingers before lacing them tight. “I just want to offer him space if he needs it. We’ve both been through some rough stuff and sometimes together isn’t always best.”  
  
Ezekiel nods, but Carol looks a little disappointed in her. Ezekiel turns to Carol. “Let me show you to your chambers.” He offers her an arm.  
  
Carol chuckles emptily at it first, but then takes it. “You know, that place was such a hell hole, I could use a bit of a fairy tale to wash the bleak away.” Her and Ezekiel grin at one another and then walk off.  
  
Lupe sighs, tears of guilt burn in her eyes. She’s so glad Carol and Daryl survived the Sanctuary. She’s glad Ezekiel and the Kingdom exist. If not for this refuge, her and her friends would be in deep shit.  
  
“Lupe?” There’s a crashing thump that follows. “Lupe!?” his voice cracks again.  
  
Lupe sprints back into the room, finding Daryl on the ground as he tries to clamber up to unsteady feet. “It’s me!” she says and he instantly relaxes like a puddle spreading on the floor. She rushes towards him and helps him back on the bed.  
  
He’s huffing, and that tic he gets when he’s extra anxious shakes through all of him as he stares at her. Chewing on his lip, he mutters, “I didn’t — I thought —,”  
  
"I got you. You don’t have to explain. You don’t have to feel guilty for being scared,” Lupe says gently, stroking his head and pushing some hair out of his face. “We’re in the Kingdom. You’re with me, Lupe, in my guest room. Saviors aren’t allowed inside the walls. The doctor saw you,” she swallows thinking about his injuries, “and says you’ll be okay after a little bit of rest.”  
  
“Rest?” Daryl snarls, vibrating like he’s gonna get up and turn into a beam of light. “I can’t fuckin’ rest with that asshole out there.”  
  
Lupe nods. “I know. I’m sorry.”  
  
He glares at her and growls, “What in the fuck are you sorry for?”  
  
Lupe turns away from the anger, trying to hide her shame. “I’m sorry he’s done all this to you and your family, because of my idea to attack.”  
  
Daryl grabs her and turns her back to face him, shaking her incidentally. “It ain’t you. It’s never been you! It’s always been him and his fucked up choices.” His teeth grit. “He tortured me for days Lupe, and it wasn’t about you. It was all about him.”  
  
Lupe sobs into the empty space between them. Daryl shakes so much it takes him a while to figure out he can touch her again, hold her again, and it isn’t a lucid dream. He pulls her in tight despite the pain radiating through him and he won’t let go until she asks him to.  
  
“I love you.”  
  
It’s murmured into his chest and he almost doesn’t hear it. He grabs her and pulls her back so he can look at her. Her face is lined with tears and agony. But when she opens her eyes to look at him, the depth of emotion there tears through him like a lightning bolt. His body is buzzing and about to burst, but he needs to hear it again. “Don’t — don’t play —,” his voice crackles out.  
  
“I love you,” Lupe insists through her sobs, “I love you and I’m so sorry he hurt you. I’m so sorry I didn’t kill him. I love you and I just want you safe —,”  
  
She’s cut off by Daryl’s kiss, sharp and to the point. He yanks back from her and both of them wobble and rattle from the force of it. He stares into her eyes and even though he is wrapped up in a bleak rage, he means what he says, “I love you too.”  
  
She cries harder and Daryl pulls her in against his chest. They lay down on the bed together, curling around one another, to care for wounds, both fresh and old.  
  
Lupe calms the raging grief and anxiety by listening to Daryl’s heart beat. “Do you want to talk about what he did?” she asks, voice meek, but determined to help. “I’ve never really gone into detail about the things he did to me. I don’t know if I ever will. But if you need to talk or scream or whatever, I’m here to support you.”  
  
“I was tossed in the cells right off.” He breathes. “They didn’t let me sleep, played loud music all the time when I wasn’t being questioned about the attack. Every other day I got a cup of dirty water and a dog food sandwich, like I wouldn’t fuckin’ know the taste. Got my ass beat to shit.” His arm around her squeezes on impulse.  
  
For the moment, her presence soothes all those jagged edges Negan and his Saviors ripped into him. His hand gently curves over her side and he has the privilege to hold the deep, shuddering breaths she takes right in his very hands. It’s an easy and sure reminder that they are alive.  
  
“Tried to get me to join the Saviors after they figured I didn’t know nothing about the attack,” Daryl grunts. “Negan didn’t like it when I kept sayin my own name.”  
  
His heart beat against Lupe’s cheek and it was a betraying comfort. He was here, alive, and safe in her arms. But it thumped too fast when Daryl said Negan’s name.  
  
Daryl swallows hard. “When they stripped me, they saw the scars I already had. So Negan added to them. More cigarette burns. I got beat with a belt. He dragged his bat across me a time or two.” He squeezes her tight, because he recognized those slashes the second they were on his skin. “I didn’t rat anyone out. I didn’t rat you out.”  
  
Lupe squeezes him back. “No one would ever doubt you Daryl. No one. You’ve got the strongest heart out of all of us. I’m so sorry you suffered.”  
  
He quivers in her arms and she can feel the tears forming by the shudder of his lungs. She holds on tight as Daryl starts to cry, a silent grief that was carved into him as a child and ripped back open by the Saviors. Lupe holds him as best she can, regret and guilt sewing itself up inside every inch of her. She feels like a harbinger, an albatross, and an omen, all at once. She despises this and it’s all her fault.  
  
Now, Daryl truly knows.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for a little "fun"

The darkness is the thing that probably bugs Brad the most about the new world. He stands watch with other Saviors, looking out past the moat and into the woods surrounding the Chemical Plant outpost. There’s so much darkness one can’t help but think it’s alive, just a mass of writhing shadows. He misses light pollution. Fuck the stars. At least back then he could go take a piss without worrying some undead asshole is gonna fucking materialize out of the shadows.   
  
His shift just started and he’s already bored. Gavin is kind of a tight ass about things, but at least he doesn’t bash people in the head with a bat if they piss him off. He deals with King Ezekiel, a pretty upright guy that delivers on time, every time. The King’s soldiers are mostly not a bunch of bitter pricks, or they don’t show it. Things go pretty smooth with The Kingdom. So Gavin, who pretty much hates everything, gets a mediocre existence out in the middle of an undead nowhere. And Brad gets to hitch along for the ride.  
  
Brad checks in like the other Saviors over the radio when Gavin makes the call. He has to respond just about every half hour, so at least something keeps him awake. He hopes that after his several long months stint at the outpost, he might finally get to go back to the Sanctuary. The Saviors from the Sanctuary always seemed to have the most fun. He was tired of the pace at the outpost. It was far too routine.  
  
“We’ve had a few dead drawn to the North side of the moat,” Arnold says when he checks in. “Want us to do a sweep Gav?”  
  
“Don’t call me Gav,” Gavin snaps in monotone. “Even if we were friends, it makes you sound like a prick. Don’t run a sweep yet, if there’s not that many, pick them off. If you see five or more, shine a light in the woods. We don’t want to get surprised by a herd.”  
  
Brad rolls his eyes. The moat would hold. They had plenty of scares with packs of the undead walking through the woods and into the outpost’s clearing. They usually split right around once they recognized the other walking corpses in the moat. As long as the living stayed quiet, it wouldn’t be a big deal. They probably just got riled from the radio chatter. Brad hears the soft thunking of silenced bullets, maybe six. He waits, but his side is pretty inactive. Trying to look in on the action at the other tower is futile. It’s still just a big blur of night. It didn’t help that it was cloudy too.  
  
“We hit seven, let’s hit the lights.” A harsh whisper comes over the radios.  
  
Brad turns and walks over to the edge of his platform and waits. One light flicks to life, and the rest, including his, follow. The forest lights up like it’s midday. Everything looks fine, just a bunch of trees.  
  
The shadows of the trees move.  
  
Heads turn. Hundreds of heads turn.  
  
Eyes shine in the darkness.  
  
It’s no longer just the shadows moving.  
  
The forest seeps the undead, filling the vast expanse of the outpost’s clearing. Every corpse screeches towards the lights.  
  
“Fire!” Someone shouts and Brad puts his rifle to his shoulder and starts picking them off. Ten couldn’t do much harm, but twenty? A hundred? They are only protected by a chain link fence that held more dead. Now, it didn’t seem like such a good idea. Those assholes were getting riled up by the shots too.  
  
Every time a body fell, another one popped from the woods like the trees birthed them. Someone finally radioed Gavin, but more of the Saviors were already on their way, stumbling out the doors. In the middle of the night, they had to fight for their lives.  
  
The gates fold like a house of cards. In comparison to the slow process of the trees pushing them forth, the undead flood through that gap like water through a burst dam. It’s pure devastation. Brad is able to get down off his tower, trying to help the sleepy men getting overrun. There are just so many corpses. He hears Gavin shouting for a retreat, so Brad starts running and doesn’t look back.   
  
Brad gets cut off from the main building by a group of undead, six or seven deep. He bolts around the back of the building that holds most of their ammunition and finds the door he needs. Slipping in, he locks it behind him. He closes his eyes and covers his ears to blot out the screams coming from the yard.  
  
Brad raises his shaky gun as he peeks around the dark room. He almost fires off a shot when the radio crackles. “Anyone alive?” Gavin’s breath huffs, but he is still sound monotone.  
  
Brad hooks his gun strap over his shoulder and fumbles for his radio. “Brad here, I’m in the ammunition building, don’t know if anyone else made it. I got cut off from the main group by the dead.”  
  
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” Gavin responds. “Glad you got in there. Stay vigilant and keep them out. Those fuckers are disasters waiting to happen. We don’t need them inside a room with explosives.”  
  
“Yes sir,” Brad replies. He waits while a few other Saviors check in. They lost about ten men to the gates falling. He’s not sure of what possible injuries are out there and who might be dead soon.  
  
It’s eerily silent inside the ammunition building. Brad feels like he can’t move or he’ll be the spark that sets off the powder keg. He doesn’t hold his gun at the ready because he’s too scared not to accidentally shoot his own shadow.  
  
He hopes the dead pass on by the morning. He doesn’t want to have to deal with rebuilding the gates while they’re still all wandering out there. With the compound locked down and a good amount of the Saviors and their wares surviving, he hopes Negan won’t be too pissed. It’s not like they can control the dead.  
  
The radio clicks back on, but instead of the pause before someone speaks it’s automatic noise, shouting and gunfire. “They got through the doors in building two!” a voice yells. That’s the building with most of their food and other supplies. “Five men down! Th-there’s so many!” The radio clicks off and silence reigns.   
  
“Arnold! Arnold! Report!” Gavin starts shouting, trying to get the other building to check in. Gavin is in building one with all of the Saviors’ housing and amenities. Brad stares down at his radio and waits along with Gavin and the other Saviors, but no one comes back on the line.  
  
“Brad, you still with us?” Gavin shouts over the radio.  
  
Brad brings the radio to his lips and nods. He screws his eyes shut and remembers how to speak, “Yeah, I’m still here.”  
  
“We need more ammunition. I don’t know how many are out there, the lights got knocked down with the gates and the towers.” Gavin sighs. “Can you see how many are —,”  
  
The radio cuts off and Brad waits, gripping the little plastic brick at his nose and waiting for it to come back to life.  
  
“Brad!” Gavin screams. There’s gun shots and groaning in the background. “They got through the doors! We need ammunition! I need you to bring the big guns! Heavy artillery!”   
  
Brad shakes as he stares at his radio. “Yes sir!” he shouts into the receiver. He runs over to the inventory desk and rifles around until he comes up with an empty duffle. He starts packing things in as fast as he can, shoving in assault rifles and grenades, shot guns and ammunition. His hands are shaking but he doesn’t stop until the bag is near bursting. He straps it to his back just as Gavin comes through again.  
  
“Brad!” Gavin shouts. “We’re trapped in the rec room! We’ve got both exits barricaded but the entire place is overrun! How the fuck did this happen!?” he asks no one in particular. There’s a few beats of silence and then Gavin comes back. “There’s a bathroom on the west side of building one. It’s probably clear now that the inside is filled. You can come right to us.”  
  
“I’m on my way!” Brad replies through the radio. He adjusts the bag on his back and then takes a step towards the locked door.  
  
The knob jiggles.  
  
Brad stares at it for a few more seconds, thinking he imagined it. But it moves again, he’s sure. He stutters back a step and fumbles to pull out his flashlight. The thin beam focuses right on the knob. He can barely see it with the way the light shakes. He holds his wrist with his other hand to steady himself and stares right at the knob. It doesn’t jiggle.  
  
But the lock mechanism slowly starts to twist until it clicks. The door opens and swings wide.  
  
“Oh fuck!” Brad whines.  
  
He swears he sees one of the dead kneeling in the doorway, but he’s not sure because at least ten of them flood right in. He struggles to grab his gun with the pack on his back. He eventually gets it up and manages to mow a few of them down. Unfortunately, more come flooding in at the sound of the gunshots. He never got a silencer.  
  
“Brad, check in!” Gavin shouts. “These doors won’t hold much longer!”  
  
Brad grabs his radio and raises his gun, trying to balance the two as he pops one of the undead through the skull. “They got in!” he shouts into the radio. He’s trying to put it back in his pocket, but his hand shakes and tires. It slips and clatters to the floor, but Brad doesn’t notice. He uses his other hand to steady his gun again. He’s trying to keep killing them before they kill him. He doesn’t want to die.  
  
“The doors are gonna fold!” Gavin shouts. “We’re gonna make it for the trucks! Be there!”  
  
Brad’s gun jams. He curses loud and brings out a knife, too crowded to try to get to another gun immediately. He doesn’t have time to access the ones still strapped to his back either. He stabs about five in the head and he’s starting to run low on energy. He feels like the group is thinning, but he can’t be sure with all the sweat in his eyes and the encroaching darkness.   
  
One of the undead lunges, a shambling and hissing mess of blood and gore. It’s covered from head to toe in viscous blood, and entrails hang from its neck. Its face is a mass of mud, dirt, and things he doesn’t want to know about. Brad lifts his knife to jab it in its temple, swinging with enough force to crack through its skull.   
  
The creature’s arm raises up in a flash and blocks him. Brad’s mouth drops open in pure shock. He stares at the monster in front of him and meets its eyes. They’re a deep and woodsy brown. The shock wears off, Brad tries to breathe but it’s an agonizing effort. He looks down and a thin metal spike is shoved deep into his chest. As the undead yanks the spike out by it’s leather wrapped handle, Brad gasps and gurgles. It smiles.   
  
When Brad drops to the floor, he is unable to make a sound as he wriggles and bleeds. The walker that stabbed him stumbles off with the pike in its hand. The clouds must have cleared because moonlight starts pouring in through the door. It gleams off the odd shiv the creature holds, even as it’s slick with Brad’s blood. The pike angles down as the monster nears the wall, almost leaning up against it. The walking corpse presses the point against the metal shielding and drags metal against metal, making a screeching sound that echoes throughout building three.   
  
The grating noise is only eclipsed by the groaning and hissing of the dead, being drawn in from outside. Some of the creatures follow the sound, but others fall on top of Brad and start to feast. He tries to scream, but he can’t. He shakes and cries and the last thing he sees is the walker that stabbed him. It pauses at an intersection at the end of the hall and looks in either direction. It stumbles off towards the generator room as opposed to the rest of the armory, where the explosives were kept. Brad never hears the trucks roar to life.


	53. Chapter 53

Michonne and Lupe stroll through the dilapidated city surrounding the Sanctuary. They walk around with their usual fair, the rifle, the sword, Alma’s gun, the slingshot, and the batons. They also carry a pair of channel locks and a crow bar. Their job within the absurdly unguarded area was to find the remnants of city water mains. They open up the small metal grates found in the streets, turn the valves off, hide the mains, and walk away. This was a second stage effort to fuck with the Sanctuary. They didn’t know exactly how Negan routed the water, but it likely had to be through pipes that the city built.   
  
“So how are things with Daryl?” Michonne asks, it’s innocent and kind. She’s another person who is fascinatingly caring. The world shapes people in wild ways. For someone to tame the violence so carefully is astounding.   
  
“They’re good mostly,” Lupe replies, tone a bit jilted as she clacks the channel locks in her hands. “Once he was able to rest and heal, it made a difference. But he’s angry and hurt, and I don’t blame him. Negan is a monster.”  
  
Michonne leans in. “I want you to know I’m genuinely impressed that you survived so long. Not because I doubted you, but because we finally met him and I don’t think I could have imagined someone so depraved.” She shakes her head. “That man, that place, I don’t know if my soul could last there.”  
  
Lupe shudders. “It wouldn’t. Mine didn’t. I had to leave it behind.” The statement is chilling and Lupe feels it more than ever. She’s scared to admit all the ways The Sanctuary ripped her to pieces. The person she used to be, even after the world ended, and the person she is now after the Sanctuary, are blistering strangers.  
  
Michonne nods. After a beat of tight silence, she speaks. “I lost my son near the beginning.”  
  
Lupe turns to look at her with a frown, laden by the instantaneous tears in her eyes. “I’m really sorry.”  
  
Michonne nods with a small pursed smile above a quivering chin. “It still is the hardest thing I’ve ever been through. You don’t… get over grief like that. You can’t forget it. It changes you. I can’t attest to what he did to you and your sister, but your loss, your grief, it’s welcome here.”  
  
Lupe arcs an eye brow through her frown.  
  
Michonne smiles, a crinkle of her beautiful face. “You don’t have to hide from us. Daryl doesn’t have to hide from us.” Her voice is calm and sweet, “But we understand. We’re waiting here. For whenever we can help.”  
  
Lupe’s smile cracks through the palpable grief. “Thank you. I —,” she swallows as a chill runs through her, “I feel like maybe I can grieve when this is done.”  
  
Michonne nods. “I think that’s true for all of us. We’ll be ready for you too.”  
  
Lupe grins and her words are soft and vulnerable, “I hope the healing can be beautiful in some way.”  
  
Michonne’s smile broke through the clouds and seemed to bring the sunshine with it. “It will.”  
  
“How’s Carl?” Lupe dares to ask. She has been carefully not-avoiding Rick and his family. It’s mostly just been her trying to melt into walls whenever she was in the room with them. Guilt was an ugly dense thing.  
  
Michonne chews on her lip and scoffs. “He’s probably handling everything better than the rest of us. He’s been delegated to helping Daryl and Rick oversee the strategies while he heals.”   
  
Her voice goes a little high and shakes, “Carl was so brave.” Her head bows and her long locs block the grief trying to escape on her features. “He told Rick it wasn’t him. It was just Negan trying to hurt as many people as he could.” Her smile is fragile and she grips the crowbar to her chest, twisting her hands around it. “Negan made the break worse because of that bravery.” She purses her lips and closes her eyes, breathing deep to tamp down the swell of complex emotions. Her tone is almost level as she continues, “The second break was severe, but thankfully clean. Denise was able to set it and Eugene,” she rolls her eyes with a fond breathy smile despite the tears in her eyes, “he was able to make a cast from that 3D printer he insisted on bringing back from one of the runs.”   
  
“Fuckin’ Eugene,” Lupe chuckles, shaking to hold back her own emotions. She smiles, and it may be weak, but it’s genuine. “Of course he did…”   
  
Lupe has to bite back her tears thinking about how sick Negan’s display must have been to witness. She’d seen so much of that bleak shadow herself. She knows. She looks at Michonne, gaze full of regret. “Negan doesn’t like bravery. He likes blind allegiance and fear. He wants a cult that worships him.” Her head hangs as she tries to swallow the grief tightening her throat. “God, Carl is such a strong person. He didn’t deserve this.”  
  
“Hey,” Michonne says, voice light as a feather, “none of us do.” She stares at Lupe hard. “That includes you. You don’t deserve this. You should know that.” She places a hand on Lupe’s cheek, “But what you’re doing now will save a lot of lives. What we’re doing together is saving the future.”  
  
Lupe nods, biting at her lips too hard. They didn’t have much more to go in their little quest. They round the Sanctuary a few times, utilizing their practiced stealth, which wasn’t needed much. There weren’t many Saviors outside the Sanctuary any more.   
  
That was due to Daryl, Rick, Abraham, Sasha, Eric, and Aaron doing their own rounds. They collected walkers in the back of big rigs and let them out into the area surrounding the compound. The dead weren’t converging on the compound yet, but they made the woods a difficult place to be. If they got too loud inside the gates, for instance, someone screaming in agony as they’re tortured, it drew a crowd. So people were stuck inside the walls and forced to be quieter.  
  
“We should probably go try to meet up with Rick and everyone. You’ll need to start your ‘Predator’ mission,” Michonne chuckles.  
  
Lupe grins with a bright enthusiasm. “Instead of shock and awe, it’s more like annoy and destroy.”  
  
Michonne snorts. “Let’s get back to the car. I’m tired of this city.” A walker finally shambles in their direction. Despite being covered in their gore, talking usually got them riled up. Michonne trips the creature and steps on its knee before walking away with Lupe.  
  
They get back to the car without incident. Lupe found a Missy Elliot CD a few weeks ago and puts it in. Michonne gets stoked and Lupe dances in her seat. She feels the music in her neurodivergent brain in such a way that few would understand. Good music lit her nervous system up like the Aurora Borealis.  
  
The drive isn’t long until they look in their rearview mirror and spot a big rig pulling in behind them. A hand sticks out and waves. Two more trucks pop out on the route back, completing their formation as they drive farther and farther away from their foes. Once they’re at a respectable distance and in a random place, Michonne guides everyone to pull over at a ruined rest stop. They drive in and position their cars to look like they belonged in the stilled chaos of the parking lot. They find a quiet, defensible spot and greet each other properly.  
  
Lupe gravitates towards Daryl as everyone hugs and chats. Lately, he was even quieter than before they were friends. “How’d it go?” she asks as he leans back against the wall.  
  
“Good. They flowed right out into the woods.” He nods, but it’s a short, tight move. “Enid was smart thinking to put those wind chimes up. Guides them right towards the Sanctuary.”  
  
“Yeah that was a solid choice.” Lupe grins. “I think we’re doing a good job keeping the compound caged in. They have barely left to do collections lately.”  
  
“Negan’s getting run down. We saw him on a trip a week back and he looks ragged as all hell.” Daryl has a special petty grin on his face. He looks to Lupe and winks, and a sparkle of his charm peeks out through that. “Ya might have something to do with that.”  
  
“Maybe so,” Lupe says with an arch in her eyebrow that would make a gothic building jealous.  
  
Daryl shakes his head at her. “Take credit when credit’s due for once.”  
  
“Yeah, fine.” She rolls her eyes and gives him a pursed smile that perks up one cheek.   
  
Sasha walks up. “You guys ready to go soon?”  
  
“Yeah,” Lupe replies. “Got our stuff stacked to go by the door. You and Abraham up for this? It’s not gonna be… pretty.” She cringes, but it’s hopeful.  
  
Sasha smiles at her easily. “This world ain’t been pretty in years. Fuck it. If it ain’t gonna be pretty, I might as well be free.”  
  
Daryl chuckles as Abraham comes up. His mustache twitches with a smile underneath. “Let’s do this.”  
  
Rick, Michonne, and the others come over. Rick asks, “Where are you headed first?”  
  
“We’re gonna plant the dummy ammunition Eugene made in a road block,” Sasha says. “It’ll be interesting to see what happens if that comes into play.”  
  
“I can admit that I slightly fear that mulletted maniac’s machinations,” Abraham chuckles.  
  
“We’re gonna work on the roads tonight, see what we can stir up to make things more complicated,” Daryl adds. “The roadblock is good, but we also just need to fuck their cars up. Keep’em contained and paranoid. We’ll set up a perimeter after that.”  
  
“Keep watch for a few days.” Rick nods, he looks to Michonne and Lupe. “I want to see what happens with their water situation.”  
  
“They’ll have reserves. But for hundreds of people, for several days? It’ll dry out fast,” Lupe adds. “Water isn’t free at the Sanctuary either. The workers will suffer first, so I don’t want to prolong it to the point where someone gets hurt.”  
  
“Don’t worry, we won’t let it go past five days,” Michonne says, “I’m sure there will be unrest faster. Especially if Eugene and Carter manage to finish their job.”  
  
Rick sighs with a grin as he looks around at the gathered group. “Alright, I suppose we all got our jobs to finish.”   
  
They left the semis at the back of the wreckage of the pit stop. It was a decent hiding spot. Michonne took Rick, Eric, and Aaron back in her truck. The remaining groups split off and found some cars to hijack for their expedition. They siphoned some of the gas from the semis and were on their way.  
  
The truck they found was functional enough for what they needed of it. They loaded it up with the bullets and other resources. Abraham rigged all the controls and sent the metal beast careening towards the pot hole they just manufactured. When it hit the ditch, it looked like it might launch into the sky. But it just jumped, toppled over magnificently, exploded with the supplies, and screeched to a stop, blocking most of the road.  
  
The group split up and went to establish a soft perimeter. They familiarized themselves with the area and the Savior’s exterior set up. They didn’t see much of anyone except the silent guards on the wall. Once the sun started setting the two groups got to work.   
  
Their mission revolved around expanding on the natural wear and tear of the road. They widened some pot holes and busted some bigger cracks. Finding some recycled glass in a nearby dumpster, they tossed it all over one of the more traveled roads of the Saviors. They scattered it everywhere just for the chance. The thick bottles and mason jars made beautiful little shards of mass-tire-destruction, glittering on the street. A few fallen trees, a mound of corpses, or some scattered nails, the group did whatever they could to make it harder and harder on the Saviors leaving the compound. They checked in together one more time before splitting up and setting up for the night.  
  
Daryl and Lupe found a nice little ice box truck and set themselves up on top of it. They zipped their sleeping bags together and formed a squished burrito of warmth. Every once and a while they’d flip over onto their stomachs and pull out their scope and binoculars. They’d peek into the distance and spot the lights still flickering in the Sanctuary. They couldn’t see a whole bunch, but the gate had moderate visibility with the lights inside still on. The two preferred safety over surety for the moment.  
  
They stare up at the stars together. Daryl mutters about constellations and using the North star to find his way through the woods when he was nine. “I made myself a sandwich and slept for probably like ten days or somethin’,” he chuckles.  
  
“Yikes! That’s… jeez,” Lupe mutters into his neck. “Glad you made it out okay. You musta been one punk ass kid.”  
  
Daryl snorts. “Compared to the rest of my family? Shit, I was basically an angel.” His smile is fragile as he looks at Lupe. “That’s why my brother gave me that vest with the wings. He used to tease me and call me angel.” He shakes his head and a pained smile twitches his lips. “It was derogatory of course, like everything he called me. It was a shit way to go about it, but he was trying to keep me tough. He knew what was out there. He’d already been broken by it. Sometimes I was never sure if he wanted me broken too, just so he wouldn’t feel alone.” He nuzzles into her hair and breathes deep.  
  
“That sounds awful, I’m sorry. But I understand it’s still important, we’ll get it back if it’s still at the Sanctuary.” She mumbles into his skin and kisses his neck with a distinct tenderness. She’d gotten over her leather phobia for the moment and appreciated its worth to him. She knew how hard it was to lose something sentimental like that.  
  
“Thanks,” he mutters into her hair. “Don’t exactly mind if we burn the place down though.”  
  
Lupe snorts and kisses him beneath his chin. “Yeah, me either.” She sighs. “You know, I spent probably five or so months there. Sometimes I feel like I don’t remember what happened. Like there’s just a big blank space where that part of my life should be.” She nuzzles into Daryl’s warmth. “But if I try to look too close, it’s like it all comes back at once.”  
  
“Do — do you… wanna talk about it?” Daryl is trepidatious, but she knows he’s trying.   
  
“I…” Her throat closes tight and she tries to breathe. “I don’t even know what to say. Negan tortured me in a way that really broke me down. It worked, I hate to say it, but it did. He fucking shattered me. I only stayed alive out of spite and for my sister. After Alma was gone, it was pretty much just spite.” She scoffs. “I truly cared about some of the people in there. It’s why I don’t want to see them hurt. At the same time, I’m afraid some of those people, or some of our people, aren’t gonna make it through this and that terrifies me. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I feel like I always have to, like there’s no other choice.”  
  
“Sometimes there ain’t,” Daryl grumbles, but the words hit sharp like hail on a tin roof. “Sometimes there ain’t no other option. You kill or you die.” She shakes in his arms so he squeezes tighter. “S’like you say, some people don’t deserve to live. Some people put you in situations where you don’t have a choice. Sometimes keeping that spark of life alight, means extinguishing something else.”  
  
Lupe curls against him, wrapping herself up and feeling him shift and breathe against her. She nods. “I know. I’m just tired of seeing people survive that aren’t deserving, and always losing the people who are.”  
  
“World ain’t fair,” Daryl growls, more out of bitterness than animosity towards Lupe.  
  
She lays a hand over his chest, her palm above his beating heart. “I don’t want a fair world. I want a just world. I want a world with equity and acceptance. That isn’t fair, that’s just basic human decency.”  
  
“People barely had that back when we were considered civil and corpses weren’t tryin’ to eat us,” Daryl chuckles.  
  
“I know.” Lupe grins. “I just want us to be better. We should be better. If we were…” She stares up at the stars and exhales. She’d feel insignificant, but looking into the vastness of the sky was more like coming face to face with a beautiful humility. They were all so small, but it didn’t mean they couldn’t be great. “If we were better, then maybe so many more people would still be with us.”  
  
“You’re right.” He nods into her hair. “But we gotta go scorched earth on this.”  
  
Lupe stretches up to press a soft kiss on his lips. She squiggles away from him and rolls over, grabbing her scope. She stares at the distant shadow of the Sanctuary, still tinkling with a few lights. The top floor with the biggest window is bright. Lupe can’t see anything past that, but she knows Negan is in there. She hopes he’s suffering.  
  
She’s about to drop the scope and go back to kissing Daryl, but the entire compound goes black. The Sanctuary’s power has been cut.  
  
A genuine smile creeps on her lips as she sets down the scope. “I know, and I’m glad to find the kindling.” She rolls back into Daryl’s arms. “Eugene and Carter did it,” she whispers. Daryl kisses her and that’s the last thing either of them have to say on the matter. The groans of the dead grow as the wind tinkles through the trees.  
  
A reckoning is coming.


	54. Chapter 54

The Sanctuary has survived a week without flowing water and electricity. Though, survived is a crude word for what they’re doing here. Negan wouldn’t be surprised if people started getting sick soon. They’ve got close to two hundred people jammed inside this stone sardine can. They’re running dangerously low on water. They’re almost out of food. They’re shitting in buckets. The Sanctuary never functioned like this and it was driving Negan into a murderous delusion.  
  
There’s more of the dead in the area than usual. He still has men on the outside gates, watching the perimeter. He’s not ignorant enough to pretend that doesn’t matter. He’d send men out to clear the woods, but keeping the fences stable is difficult enough. They get the undead piling up in spots. The thin metal bends. The corpses rile each other up, making more noise. He tells his men to pick them off, but more and more come. They just don’t stop. It seems like the world is running out of humans. The universe must have decided Negan was too enthusiastic about shaving down the numbers and deserved some retribution.  
  
Negan didn’t think he deserved that though. When mother nature trampled all over her promise to sustain humanity, he decided fuck his promises to her World Order. He had dragged the living, kicking and screaming into their new miserable existence. He kept them alive. Though that didn’t seem to matter.   
  
His people are getting restless. The Saviors are getting frustrated and annoyed by the common folks’ complaints. The workers can’t do much work if they’re not allowed out of the building. Even trying to tend to the gardens resulted in a rush of the dead, snarling and hissing, shaking the chain link, and attracting more. Negan is running out of water and he knows it’ll be rebellion soon if he doesn’t do something. Their last run was good, they found ammunition and some food, but still no water. Water was good as gold these days. Maybe better.  
  
Negan is run down. He doesn’t have a right hand man anymore. With Simon, Negan never really needed to find himself a left hand man. Simon was torn to absolute shreds at the Satellite outpost. It’s something that still keeps Negan up in the middle of the night. The horrific amount of blood and how many pieces were torn off, it haunts him. He’d had to put a bullet in Simon’s head to put him down once and for all, though he wasn’t really capable of going anywhere. And Simon isn’t the only good man he’s lost.  
  
A few of his most trusted Saviors had been sent out with teams to scavenge and collect from other communities. What was brought back stretched what they had, but not by much. Some of the scavenging groups hadn’t even returned. It had been a problem for weeks with all the increased dead. Negan can’t be bothered sending out search parties, because he worries they won’t come back either. His Saviors are dwindling from the massive force they once were. He is dangerously close to things slipping through his grasp. Negan is dangerously close to losing everything.  
  
Possibly even his mind. The food, the water, his dying men, and the unruly workers, it was all an enormous stress. Negan is barely eating and drinking, and sleeping less. He’s tried a few times to go out there himself. He doesn’t think he can anymore. He wants to believe it's the sleep depravation causing waking hallucinations. He is almost desperate for just sleep deprivation to be the reason he’s hurtling towards a dreadful instability.  
  
He keeps seeing her.   
  
Dita.   
  
Hilltop fought to defend themselves from the undead horde he sent crashing through their gates. As retribution for the attack on the outpost, he broke down their defenses, set fires, and left a locked down car blaring Beethoven’s Symphony No. 9, Second Movement. Negan watched through binoculars as the people scrambled and screamed. The chaos was excellent until that sick bitch climbed in a tractor and crushed the car. He could have sworn he saw Dita standing in the flickering firelight, looking distant and empty. Staring out into the darkness, still as stone, it was like she saw him too. The shudder that ran through him made him lose his target and she was gone.    
  
On his way back from an Alexandria collection, before things got really ugly, he could have sworn he saw her shambling through the woods. She was dirty and bloodied, reaching out to his trucks as they drove by. He even stopped to look around, but couldn’t find anything. He wouldn’t dare tell his men to scour the forest. He’d gone through too much forcing himself to let her go. He couldn’t allow that obsession to take hold of him again. The wild goose chase after her ghost wasn’t worth the effort any longer.   
  
But Negan saw her, he knows it. He believes she’s haunting him and he probably deserves it. That woman proved he was weak in so many ways. His entire community knew who she was, what she was capable of. Every single person knew that she was exactly what Negan didn’t want in his world. But how wrong they were. She is everything he wanted. She brought him to his knees. She proved he was vulnerable and faulty. She proved right everything he despised about himself. He lost control and everything fell apart just because of her. The linchpin to his control. He had an iron grip on things before she showed up. He should have heeded that ice cold warning she gave him the first day they met. She was right. She would destroy him. He had such a need to break her, and still does. He wanted her so bad, it cost him not just his soul, but everything he worked for too. She is his reckoning.  
  
That is particularly unacceptable to Negan. He still has a fire burning in him that wants to scorch through this world. He wants to pay it back for taking so much from him. He wants it to suffer just like he does. He also wants to stop it. He wants to hold the world in the palm of his hand and squeeze it till its very last breath. Negan wants to fight back, or maybe just fight. So he does.   
  
The sun starts to rise as he stands from his desk and wipes his face. He blinks dry eyes that feel like gravel. The ledgers he went through showed that inventory should stretch them a few more days. He tries to breathe easy, but he can’t yet. He should probably find enough Saviors and regulars to help him retake this world of theirs, before time runs out. They could go out and take out the undead, clear the forest, and start to rebuild. He wouldn’t let the Sanctuary fall. It’s all he has left.  
  
The loud blare of a horn to the tune of ‘shave and a haircut’ shocks Negan from his contemplation. He looks around the room, thinking he may have imagined it. He turns to the window at his back and has to block the sharp rays of the sun as they crest over the hills and trees. He looks down into the shadow of them at the edge of the forest. There’s a line of semi trucks parked scattered amongst the trees, stretching across the front end of The Sanctuary. His eyes narrow and he sees four figures, standing on top of a central truck. In the middle of the group, one person has a bullhorn that made the offending sound. They raise it to their face and their voice calls out.  
  
“People of the Sanctuary…” Rick Grimes says with his hard southern drawl, flanked by King Ezekiel, Maggie, and Glenn, “We’ve come to make a deal.”  
  
His voice echoes through the silent dawn. The dead groan and hiss like it’s a round of applause.


	55. Chapter 55

“People of the Sanctuary…” Rick says with a hard tone, brokering no argument, “We’ve come to make a deal.”  
  
There is a long peel of silence. Rick waits patiently with Ezekiel, Maggie, and Glen by his side. Several other Alexandrians man the other semi trucks, but they remain quiet and hidden. Abraham and Sasha sit in the cab of their rig with the windows open, stabbing walkers in the head if they try to climb up. Aaron and Eric are chilling on the roof of the cab, playing cards. Rosita and Tara are in another, checking their guns and making sure they have enough ammo packed, and more to spare. Michonne and Morgan are in one, sorting through all the goodies they have in case they need to infiltrate. Eugene and Carter man the other truck, and they’re ready to make repairs if necessary. Jesus and Heath sit, gripping the wheel and the seats, respectively. Carol is in another, she drove in with Ezekiel, so she is just waiting patiently for the signal. Enid and Carl took over Glen and Maggie’s rig, they aren’t there for the fight, but they have a few ideas tucked up their sleeves. Daryl and Lupe are in the last one. Both of them sit, holding hands, silent, with Barbacoa in the middle, wagging her tail weakly.  
  
“We came here together to settle this,” Rick says. “We are here to form a future together. A future based on equity and cooperation.”  
  
Everyone turns their engines on and climbs to the top of their rigs, joining Rick in making a stand. He looks around as they walk to the back end of their trailers, facing the grim building. Lupe and Daryl are two rigs to the right. He glances over at them and sees Daryl taught as the crossbow on his back. Lupe stands abnormally still, her fingers occasionally flicking at her side by her gun. She has the bright red bandana covering her face.  
  
Rick turns back to the Sanctuary. He’s about to speak when one of the doors on a platform creeks open. Negan strolls out with Saviors at his back and his bat on his shoulder. They line up behind him, fifteen wide and four or five deep. His smile is too big for the setting, but that’s a general trait of his.   
  
Negan has his own megaphone and lifts it to his lips. “Rick, Rick, Rick, you crafty, lying son of a bitch!” He grins out at the gathered people. “And Carol and Daryl! Y’all didn’t even stay long enough for the good parts of the tour! We can remedy that now, can’t we?” He stares Rick down. “You return my prisoners, and I won’t end all of you here and now.”  
  
Rick smiles at that and shakes his head. “We’re not here to fight you Negan, but we will if we have to.”  
  
Negan laughs and it’s loud even without the megaphone. He replies in a snarl, “Rick, you will be a stain on the pavement after my men are done with you!”  
  
Rick gives him a rueful nod. “To the people of the Sanctuary,” he starts again, ignoring Negan’s fuming, “I, Rick Grimes of Alexandria, King Ezekiel from The Kingdom, and Maggie and Glenn Rhee from the Hilltop, stand before you as the leaders of our communities. We joined together with one single thought in mind: Peace.” He looks to the windows, the doors, anywhere that might hide the people under Negan’s thumb, and continues, “We do not want to fight, we do not want to kill,” he insists, “we only ask for your surrender.”  
  
“Rick! You stup—,”  
  
“There is a New World Order,” Rick bites through Negan’s blathering. “It is not a single man, woman, or person. It is not a single place or a type of weapon. Our New World Order…” he grins, “…It’s cooperation. It’s trust. It’s effort. It’s compassion. It’s us working together, and not under the heel of some egomaniacal tyrant!” Rick’s eyes go dark and sharp. “Our future doesn’t have room for that. We’ll be too busy making things better to slop through that shit.”  
  
“Our New World Order will thrive with or without The Sanctuary.” Rick makes sure this part is clear. It’s not a show, it’s not an act. This part, they all agreed on and he really means it. “We know there are more than just Saviors in there. We know there are workers and care givers, there are gardeners and cooks. We know there are children who deserve a better world, the elderly or sick that deserve safety and care. Whoever surrenders now will be granted clemency and an opportunity to be part of a real community. They’ll be given a chance at reintegration, and they will receive assistance and instruction on how to work with their new people.” His voice builds into a shout, “We do not want a fight. We do not want a war. We want peace!”  
  
“You’ve got some fucking balls, Rick,” is Negan’s immediate reply. “What you want is a fucking fairy tale!” he snarls. “You’re trying to lead dumb and scared people into a future where nothing is left!” Negan shouts, “The world is dying Rick! You can go your way, try to keep your weak and sad grasp on a ruined past, but you will be torn apart!”   
  
A smile grows on Negan’s lips. “The weak don’t survive in this world anymore. Not without protection. Not without saving,” his snarl rattles through the space. “The world will always need Saviors, Rick. The world will always need men like me to do the dirty work!” His smile is a knife slash glinting in the dawn. “So take your deal…” he chuckles, “And shove it.” He flicks his wrist as he turns to go back inside and the Saviors all along the platform open fire on the semi trucks.  
  
Prepared for such a thing, the people on top of the trucks dive and flatten themselves out on the roof of their trailers. The person closest to the sides crawls their way over to the edge. A wave of hands slam down on the green button of the remotes Eugene and Carter cobbled together. The liftgates all squeal and rumble before shooting up and becoming a barrier that the people on the rigs can hide behind. The guns come out and they start firing back. They end up taking out a slew of Saviors and driving them back inside the building.  
  
Rick shuffles back from the barrier in a crouch and starts looking around to check on everyone. Eric caught a bullet in the arm, but it went straight through and didn’t do much damage. He stopped bleeding quick, and Aaron is doing first aid. Everyone else seems to be unharmed and in relatively good spirits. Rick waits a little while to see if there will be any response from Negan or his Saviors. Alas, the groans of the dead are all that call out to him.   
  
They’ve got crowds of walkers scratching at the sides of their trailers, but they can’t reach, and soon won’t be a problem anymore. He looks around to the surrounding rigs and finds his megaphone, also unharmed. He picks it back up and shuffles back to with Ezekiel, Glenn, and Maggie.  
  
“Should we give them another chance?” Glenn asks.  
  
Rick nods. “We’ll give the people as many chances as they want, but we have to go to step two. They need to know we’re serious.” Rick pulls his radio up to his lips. “Step two is a go. Daryl, prep now. Set free the first wave on my mark.” Rick waits a good ten seconds and gives two short but loud bursts of the megaphone horn.  
  
A person on top of each big rig goes back to the remote on the side of the truck. They press the red button this time. The backs of each truck slowly start to roll up. Nothing much happens after that. But then it’s Daryl’s turn.  
  
Once the doors are all open, Daryl pops up from behind his barrier with the rocket launcher on his shoulder. It just takes one little RPG and an enormous explosion to blow away nearly half of Negan’s front gate and the walker moat. Bits and pieces of walker and fence fly through the sky. Some of it smacks against the semi’s shielding, and some of it ends up littering the Sanctuary yard.  
  
After the explosion, activity in the trucks finally sparks to life. Fifty or so walkers come falling out of each truck like water from a tap. They splash on the ground, but slowly stand and make their way towards the fire and noise. Many of the walkers are dressed strangely: riot cops and hockey players, kevlar vests and football padding. Some of them have weird contraptions fashioned from metal that wraps around their entire head, aside from crude eye holes.  
  
For more enticement, Enid and Lupe start sling-shotting fire crackers and smoke bombs into the yard, pulling more and more of the dead into the space just outside the doors of the Sanctuary. Daryl doesn’t fire another shot from his rocket launcher. They leave the building intact. The undead take over the space completely, and The Sanctuary is officially walled in. There is no escape.  
  
The gathered people wait behind their barriers, and hope against all hope that the end will come soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're in the home stretch folks...


	56. Chapter 56

The Alexandrians and co. stay rooted through the night. They had rounds of people go on watch, but the darkened Sanctuary doesn’t stir much. After midnight but well before dawn, they heard some shouting and some gunfire. The walkers all got riled up. Started beating against the doors and smashing themselves against the walls to get to the sound. After a brief few hours of turmoil, it fell silent again.  
  
Lupe feared for the worst. Though this place was once her prison, there are so many people still at risk to Negan’s violent rages. The short period of gunfire and shouting didn’t do much to quell those nerves. Without all of the careful back up that Negan put in place, the Sanctuary is rightfully screwed. She knows Negan would rather die than give up his power, she just hopes others won’t be as foolish.  
  
“You think the people are okay?” Lupe asks, her voice quivering. She huddles next to Daryl, in the hours not long before dawn. They just got off watch, but there’s no real point in going back to sleep. She is too wound up and simultaneously exhausted to even try. She can’t stop thinking about the gun shots. It was near automatic fire, but she can’t discern if it was back and forth, or directed one way.  
  
Daryl shrugs. “Don’t know. Negan’s officially lost his control. We took it. I know he’s a ego obsessed asshole, but I didn’t think he’d be evil enough to gun all his people down.” Lupe flinches at his words. “M’sorry. I hope that ain’t the case, but we can’t know until we get in there. Hopefully Negan will come back out again today and Rick can negotiate.”  
  
“Should we?” Lupe bites out. “Should we bother negotiating? Or the next time he pops his fuck-pile head out, should I just plant a bullet in it?”  
  
Daryl grins at her despite the honest and justified anger. He doesn’t want to condescend, but he thinks she’s like a valkyrie, gorgeous all hopped up on rage. “Hell, it’s not like I’ll try and stop ya.” He peeks out past the barrier at the expanse of silent, shambling corpses all swaying in the burgeoning grey of pre-dawn. “Fact is, Rick wants to help people. I know you want to help people. So we gotta try to help them before we fight. We can’t keep thinking killin’s our only option. Maybe we can finally slow it all down since the world fell apart.”  
  
Lupe nods, but it’s petulant. It’s especially annoying because she knows he’s right. She knows this plan of theirs was designed to try and negate the loss of life Negan has already incurred. No foundation of bones was wanted here. “I’m exhausted.”  
  
Daryl wraps an arm around her and replies, “You should be. You’ve been powering through at 200% since we started this shit.”  
  
Lupe snorts. “It definitely felt like 300%. I don’t know how much I have left to enjoy what comes after.”  
  
Daryl tugs her closer. His nose brushes her hair as he leans in to rumble in her ear, “Ain’t no benchmarks for surviving. Just is. You put in the effort you can, the rest of us will be there to back you up. Y’aint survivin’ alone no more.” He presses a kiss to her cheekbone. “Y’aint gotta punish yourself for not saving the whole goddamn world.”  
  
Lupe nods and leans into Daryl’s embrace. She presses her lips against his shoulder, covered by a hoodie beneath a faded and maybe too well worn bomber jacket. He chuckles softly at the kiss and holds her closer.   
  
“You close yer eyes a second, alright? Just rest a bit. I got you, and so does everyone else,” he grumbles into her scalp.  
  
“I’m barely functional after a nap. If action happens I won’t be able to help,” she mumbles back.  
  
“Then I’ll toss ya in the big cab with Shiva and Barbacoa. Ain’t no one gonna mess with you in there,” he replies harshly, but there’s still a humor to it.  
  
Lupe shakes her head. “You just think of everything.”  
  
“Shit do I try.” Daryl laughs, it’s quiet, but it shakes his whole form. The low sound and movement isn’t nearly lullaby territory. But for whatever reason, it quells Lupe’s static mind and eases her into safety and calm. Daryl holds her tight and that likely has something to do with it too. “We’ll make it right.”  
  
Lupe nods into him, snuggling closer. “I hope so.”   
  
“Hey…” Abraham’s voice comes over the radio. “I think we got something.”  
  
Sasha’s voice chimes in, “Lower window, might be second or third floor, near the eastern side.”  
  
There’s the gentle sounds of many people scrambling as they adjust behind the rigs’ defenses. The sea of dead still shambles on. In the second story window, where Lupe remembers a stairwell is, a thin pale arm sticks out. It holds a white scrap of fabric through the broken pane, waving it frantically.  
  
“We wanna talk!” The voice is nasally, but immediately takes no shit. Lupe’s heart races at the sound. “We’ve got people here who want to surrender peacefully!”  
  
Rick gets up with Maggie, slowly rising with the dawn at their backs. He hands her the megaphone. Maggie speaks, “Say your piece.”  
  
Another calls out, this voice a little deeper and more stern, “We’ve got non combatants, elderly, sick, and children. How do we know you mean what you say? How do we know you won’t harm us?” Lupe just about stops breathing at the tone, righteous and kind.  
  
“If you come out unarmed —,”  
  
“There’s millions of those things!” the nasally voice goes off. “I ain’t comin’ out without a fuckin’ tank!”  
  
Maggie chuckles softly and responds, “We’ll take care of them for you. You’ll be safe. You can come out armed if you want, but we’ll ask you to lay them down before you join us.” Several rigs away, Lupe is trying not to cry.  
  
There’s a long beat of silence. Then the deeper voice speaks, “How can we trust you?”  
  
“Because we’re not Negan. We aren’t here to save you. We’re here asking you to join us. We’re asking you to save yourselves,” Maggie says and she sounds absolute. Her tone goes hard as her eyes narrow, “The Sanctuary will fall, but you don’t have to take it on your knees.”  
  
The silence reins again.   
  
“Clear out the dead and we’ll come out!” the nasally voice replies. “All of us wanna get out of this shit hole!”  
  
Maggie chuckles and looks back at the other leaders. Glenn smiles and laughs. Ezekiel looks on proudly and eagerly with a wide, beaming smile. Rick even grins, and nods to Maggie. Maggie lifts up the radio to her lips, “Call them back.”  
  
It takes some effort, but the crews get one person safely to the truck’s cab. Once inside they all fiddle with the switches and tabs Eugene muttered about. The people on top press the green button and the gate lift lowers all the way to the ground to make a ramp. After the gears groan and settle, booming pop music fills the space and lights start flashing from inside the trailers.   
  
All undead heads turn and stare. The exodus reverses. All of the walkers start piling into the backs of the trucks via the ramps. They congregate by the speakers and lights that are wedged up in the corners of the container. Once they are all sufficiently occupied and the area is clear, the teams lowered the trailer doors. They turn off the music and lights and wait.  
  
“How do we know you won’t kill us?” A shaky voice asks. Lupe recognized that voice too, and her chest shakes with the effort not to call out.  
  
Rick looks over to Lupe, but she shakes her head. They talked about her showing her face to Negan again, but she worried about the consequences with so many lives at risk. She keeps shaking her head. Rick nods to her, respecting her wishes, and replies, “We’ve taken in refugees before. People hiding from those who would hurt them. We don’t harm the living unless they harm us first.”  
  
The wind whistles through the trees and they can hear tinkling on its tails. The chimes play a melodic tune of chaos, giving a voice to the air.  
  
“O-okay…” the deep voice responds. “We’re coming out. We have some people with weapons to fight off the dead, but we won’t shoot unless necessary!”  
  
“Most of the walkers are wrangled up. We’ve got a few sharp shooters here that’ll watch your backs and keep the path clear.” Rick signals to Sasha, Lupe, Daryl, and Abraham. They all take positions to be on watch for the stray dead. “Pass straight through the rigs, we’ll be there to greet you.”  
  
The rest of the Alexandrians climb down and ready to take in a whole boat load of refugees. They clear the area of the dead and set up a perimeter at their back while the four leaders and a few others spread between the trucks. They’ve got their spotters in place when the main doors open and people start flooding out. There are less than a hundred, which is concerning, but the group is large and hovering somewhere above sixty heads. A few of them are grey, some of them are young, but most of them are just running for their lives. Tucked in tight next to each other, they sprint across the clearing towards the New World.  
  
Glass breaks in the distance. Not a strange sound during the apocalypse. Lupe looks up at the wall of windows spanning the top fifteen floors of the Sanctuary. Her eyes are frantic as they search. Then she finds the long barrel of a rifle sticking out. More glass breaks.   
  
“Scatter! They’re gonna fire!” she screams.  
  
Bullets explode through her warning and litter the ground surrounding the fleeing people of the Sanctuary. Lupe drops her gun and runs straight for Daryl. He’s firing off hundreds of bullets per second and just trying to keep the Saviors from poking out their heads. Lupe swoops down next to him and sifts  through their weapon’s duffle.   
  
“Lupe —!” Daryl starts, but then bites his tongue. She’s got the right fucking idea.  
  
Lupe marches over and plants herself on top of the semi truck. She rips down the bandana covering her face and shoulders the rocket launcher. Without hesitation, she aims and fires off the RPG. It zooms towards the center of the windows where the Savior’s fire from. There’s bullets whizzing and people screaming down in the yard when the face of the building bursts. The exploding tunnel of flame leaves the remaining structure charred.  
  
Everyone freezes for a second and no one fires a shot. They all just stare at the flaming devastation in awe. The people in the yard scramble into movement soon enough. They manage to get behind the rigs before the Saviors start firing again with far fewer shooters.   
  
Lupe scales down the rig like an uncoordinated squirrel. She lands on her ass, but she doesn’t really care. As she gets to her feet and rounds the front end of her truck, she hears the deep voice again and knows exactly who it is. She always did.  
  
“Some workers and Saviors approached Negan about surrendering. Negan and his crew shot us up. We tried to fight back. We got them cornered on the top floors and managed to block off the lower ones. That’s when we reached out to —,”  
  
Lupe freezes. The dark brown eyes that center on her are too quickly filled with tears. Her mouth hangs open as she stares back at Lupe, totally and completely breathless.   
  
“H-h-hi Arat…” Lupe says weakly. Her own eyes flood with tears so fast she doesn’t see Arat charge at her. Several Alexandrians, including Daryl, jump in to try and stop her. But no one can keep her from ramming into Lupe and wrapping her in a blisteringly tight hug as she starts to sob. Arat pulls back to look at Lupe, eyes, mouth, even nostrils flared wide. She grabs Lupe’s head and immediately pulls her in for a kiss.  
  
“I’ll knock yer ass back into the ice ages if you don’t git’yer filthy Savior hands off my woman!” Daryl shouts and has to be held back by Rick and Abraham. Everyone else watches with rapt attention, in shock.  
  
Arat pulls back slowly from the tame kiss. Her entire head quivers as she holds back tears and admits, “I always promised myself I’d do it if I ever saw you again.”  
  
Lupe’s face splits into a smile as tears spill over. “I’m so sorry Arat…” She shakes her head and her hands gently place themselves over the warmth of Arat’s touch on her cheeks. “I had to. You know I had to.”  
  
Arat’s hands are gentle in redirecting Lupe’s face. She doesn’t force eye contact, but she leans in and presses her forehead against hers. “I know. I know you had to survive and you couldn’t, not with him.” She shakes her head against Lupe’s and sighs. “There’s only one thing I can’t forgive you for…” She opens her eyes and glares at Lupe from two inches away. “A gringo? Really sweetie?”  
  
Lupe sobs and snorts. “He’s really sweet once you get to know him.”   
  
Arat smiles wide through her tears and pulls her in for another hug. “I think there’s some people who need to know you’re alive. Hopefully, Frankie doesn’t kill you.”  
  
“I’m more worried about Tanya. She’ll use the rocket launcher on me.” Lupe snorts. They turn around to the gathering group of mixed Alexandrian’s and refugees. “Hey, everyone. Uh, this is Arat. She’s a very good friend.” Her teary eyes widen, and she turns to Arat. “Oh jeez, my name is Lupe by the way. I lied my face off to Negan about my real name.”  
  
Arat snorts, her tone acrid, but playful, “Figures.”  
  
“Uh, hey!” Lupe smiles as she faces the group again and her vision clears. She sees Frankie, Tanya and Henry, Amber, Lisa, Dolores, Marigold, Huang, Lozano and his wife Hortencia, and even Joey. There’s a smattering of a few Saviors, most of the ones with families in tow that just wanted to protect them. They’re most of the decent ones. The rest are workers that she never got close to, but was starting to put faces and names back together. “So, I don’t know if you all remember me…”  
  
“Course we fuckin remember you!” Tanya growls at her and then rushes forward to hug her too. “You scared the shit out of us!” The rest of the wives rush in and the elderly ones shuffle after. Lupe is stuck in a revolving door of tears and hugs, but she doesn’t quite mind.  
  
Once they’re all done blubbering together, Lupe steps back and tries to address the group. “You all probably remember me as Dita. The one who killed a bunch of saviors, got punished a lot, and had to become another one of Negan’s victims to save her sister’s life. The Dita that escaped…” she’s rather monotone, clinging to neutrality to stop the rush of chaos inside her. “Well, that is me, but my name is Guadalupe, and I go by Lupe. I did all that stuff at the Sanctuary to survive. Stuff I wouldn’t do on a normal day of my life, but I had to do it. A lot like you all did.” She is tense and trying not to shake with regret and grief.   
  
“I was really saved after I escaped. By all these people you see around you. And there’s more. There’s so many more people out there, really good people, who want to make this life more than just our basest survival. They want to make a future and I do too.” Lupe smiles warmly at the fearful faces. “We want you to join us because people are important. Not as resources. Not as bargaining chips. But because you are inherently you. We want to build communities, not an empire. We want to form families and create something better than this. I stayed with these people because I believed we could be more than what we lived through at the Sanctuary. We are more than what Negan forced us to be. We can be better, but we have to do it together.”  
  
The heads around her nod, some stern and some enthusiastically agreeing.   
  
Rick steps in. “We’ll start planning for trips back to Alexandria. You can group up however you like. The leaders will speak to everyone once we all get organized.”   
  
Lupe nods to him. “If we can get back out to the highway we can probably scavenge some cars and siphon off gas from some of the rigs to make it back home.”  
  
“We could just take the ones in the garage,” Joey speaks up. “They keys are all in there too.”  
  
“You’d have to pass through the yard again,” Arat says. “And whoever is left perched up there isn’t going down without a fight.”  
  
“I think we should end this,” Daryl interjects. He looks to Lupe. “Yer friend Arat said they trapped’em in the upper levels. We could infiltrate and take’em down.”  
  
Arat shrugs with an appreciative nod. “It’s possible. They are cornered and likely running out of ammo. The top floors don’t have gun caches. Negan never wanted weapons within reach of the wives.” Everyone grimaces at that.  
  
Lupe turns to stare back out at the smoldering Sanctuary. Negan’s top three floors were left undamaged by the blast. She turns back to Rick, “We still have some smoke bombs?”  
  
Rick squints in thought. “I’ll have to ask Carl, but I think so.”  
  
Lupe looks back at the Sanctuary and grins. “I have an idea.”


	57. Chapter 57

Arat and Joey volunteer as guides to go back inside the Sanctuary with a team of Alexandrians. The others are all outside. They help the people from the Sanctuary find suitable transportation. Also doling out food and water to combat their last several days spent suffering. The survivors all generally agreed to be accepting of how things had to get worse before they could get better. Everything was just really in the right goddamn center of being the worst.  
  
Lupe’s semi-impulsive, but super rad decision to launch a rocket at the Sanctuary meant they have to take the stairs on the back side of the building. Unfortunately, that stairwell has zero windows, so it’s entirely pitch black. A few keychain lights hang around their necks as they walk and it helps a little. Rick and Glenn are at the front with Arat and Joey, discussing particulars of the building.  
  
Lupe and Daryl are already fairly familiar with it, since they both survived being Negan’s special little projects. So they huddle together, whispering back and forth during the climb.  
  
“I apologize for Arat kissing me, but we had something kinda special that never got to happen while I was here. She tried to take care of me and Alma. She’s the one who stitched up my stomach and my thigh,” Lupe murmurs to him. “She also couldn’t have known I was with someone, so she wasn’t doing it to hurt anyone. And I was crying so hard I literally did not see her coming.”  
  
Daryl nods. “I know ya didn’t do nothing wrong. She didn’t neither,” he mutters. “Just kinda shocked me is all.” He huffs and it mimics Enid’s teenage attitude. “And ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ a gringo.”  
  
“White supremacy,” she replies sweetly.  
  
Daryl chews his lip. “Ya alright,” he bites out. “All gringos suck.”  
  
“But your the best of the sucky ones,” she babies him through kissy lips.  
  
He clicks his tongue at her as a reprimand, but can’t help but smile. “So, she was good to ya here?”  
  
Lupe nods. “Yeah, she watched out for me. And that was before I was even a wife or anyone important. I was just someone who pissed off her boss, and she helped us anyway. The women who Negan abused, they told me she was real sweet to them too — and not in the way the other Saviors were, you know, sexually. Arat just tried to look out for them. Got them things they needed. Distracted Negan on bad nights. That kind of thing.”  
  
He chews on his lip and his head quirks like he’s weighing somethin’ in it. “Ya like her too?”  
  
Lupe bites her lip. “Yes? I mean, I liked her when I was here and it wasn’t like we really got a resolution to anything. Her and I need to talk, you know? I’ll always care about her, but it might be a little confusing for a while.”  
  
“Don’t have to be,” Daryl mutters as they reach the fifth floor where the survivors set the barricade.  
  
“Don’t have to be what?” Lupe asks.  
  
“Confusin’,” Daryl replies. “If ya like her, ya like her. It’s cruel to force you to kill that, what the two of you had or coulda had, just cause I love ya too.”  
  
Lupe mutters through a big smile, “I am intently curious about where this conversation is heading. You never cease to amaze me Daryl Percival Dixon.”  
  
“Percival? Kinda fuckin middle name is Percival?”  
  
She ignores him. “I’d love to continue this conversation which I am throughly invested in. However, you and I need to have a really in depth discussion about this. And I am really, really fucking scared of seeing Negan again, and definitely not communicating at my best right now.”  
  
The group slows for a moment so Daryl leans in and pecks her at the top of her head. “Ain’t no problem. I love ya and I mean it. We got ya, alright? You ain’t gonna face him alone.”  
  
Lupe nods and swallows, but she can’t do much else.  
  
As they climb, the smells of smoke, fire, and destroyed things start to flood their senses. Everything has been empty so far, not even a single Savior turned walker, and they are right in the midst of the damaged floors. Thankfully this side of the building’s structural integrity remains intact, so they are safe. They’re coming up on the third to last level and the staircase goes no higher. It’s time to get serious.  
  
They throw a few smoke bombs in through the last door that leads to the hallway. Then they wait. There is no immediate response, but before they step in, they hear coughing. Instead of all moving in at once, they send in Lupe and Daryl with their bandanas pulled up.  
  
They split off along the hallway and stick close to either wall. Their footfalls are silent along the linoleum. This floor is one below Negan’s random offices and conference rooms. It was a storage area at some point, but a lot of the rooms are empty due to their recent lack of supplies. The floors below mostly belonged to Saviors and Lupe is utterly pleased by the fact that she destroyed most of them with an RPG.   
  
Lupe finds her first Savior crouching on the inner wall of the third room. She has her batons out and ready as she steadies herself. Exhaling as silently as she can, she hopes the hissing of the firework will cover her. She peeks around the corner just in time to catch him coughing into the crook of his elbow. She whirls the rest of her body in through the door. Throwing her momentum into a downward swing, her baton cracks into the side of his face. He was already close to the wall, so the sound is muffled as he hits it and slumps down to the floor. She jabs her baton through his ear and grabs his weapons.   
  
Daryl comes walking out of a room two doors ahead of her, his knife dripping red until he wipes it on the back of his jeans. He looks back just as Lupe comes out carrying the weapons of the Savior she just took out. She shoulders a rifle and holds out a pistol, but Daryl shakes his head and motions to his waist. He collected another pistol, and a sawed-off shot gun sticks out of one of his deep cargo pockets. She shakes her head at him and her bandana perks as they continue down the hall. Only about ten more doors on each side left.  
  
They clear the rest of the floor of five more Saviors, check the other stair case, and then Daryl sends Lupe back to grab the others. Daryl keeps watch until they all catch up. Once Lupe is at his side again, he breathes easier. He looks to Rick and Glenn as they walk up to the front. Arat is not far behind Lupe, and the big guy, Joey, is right on her heels. Carol, Sasha, Tara, Aaron, Jesus, and Heath group up behind them.  
  
“They’ve still got a lot of artillery between them. We need to be careful going in,” Arat says.  
  
Rick nods. “Don’t worry, Lupe’s got a plan and it’s solid.” He looks over at Lupe. “Maggie just checked in, she said she can’t see anyone on the top floor but she saw movement above us. Not that I’m not glad, but why did you bring this stuff in the first place?”  
  
Lupe takes the bags from Carol and Tara. She opens one, then closes it, then opens the other and starts digging. She pulls out a gas mask and hands it to Rick. “Contingency plans are vital. I wanted to be able to make a path or cause a distraction. This will do both.” She continues to hand out masks.  
  
“How many you got, Mary Poppins?” Daryl asks with a quirk to his lip.  
  
Lupe grins. “I brought one for each Alexandrian. So you’re welcome.” Once everybody has a gas mask, she goes back to the other bag and carefully pulls out a large silver canister.  
  
“You get those from the armory?” Rick asks with a grin for the CS-Triple Chasers.  
  
Lupe nods. “Yeah, the first time Negan came. They’ve been itching at me ever since. I kept thinking they would be useless against the undead.” She smiles as she plops the gas mask on top of her head like a pair of sunglasses. “Now I know why you kept them around.”  
  
Rick smiles too, and slips the gas mask over his face. The rest follow accordingly. Once everyone has their masks on, Daryl starts handing out pre-looped zip ties. Joey looks at him with a raised brow.  
  
Daryl bites out, “Made’em up once she told us her plan. Figured we may need hostages or somethin’.”  
  
Joey grins wide. “Oh, good idea. I thought you just carried looped zip ties all the time or something.” Daryl’s lip quirks at the goofiness of the statement and shakes his head. They both nod at one another and then get ready.  
  
Rick throws three canisters into the hallway and then dives back under the stairs with the rest of the group. Gunfire immediately erupts the same time the first canister blows. Bullets riddle the big doors until it’s almost splintered all the way through. By that time, the gas is dispersing. Instead of just causing visibility problems with childhood fireworks, these canisters are filled with tear gas. Once all of them blow, it’ll be nearly impossible to function inside any of the spaces behind the splintered doors. The remaining Saviors soon start choking, hacking, and screaming. Periodic bursts of odd gunfire sound off, and then there is more screaming. It sounded like it was fueled by a lot more pain.  
  
The group pushes in after that. With their gas masks in place they storm through the doors in a tight formation. They check the rooms as they go and find a smattering of Saviors in the first few. All of them are on the ground and writhing, but it’s definitely not just the gas. The group is only half surprised to see some Saviors with their hands blown to hell. Chunks of fingers and what not, littered the ground around busted guns. Eugene’s bait bullets weren’t blanks. They caused disastrous backfires.   
  
Despite their injuries, the Saviors are tied up and left under watch until all are subdued. The last room at the back of the long hallway is a conference room. Lupe remembers that place with a distinct revulsion. All but Rick hide in one of the side rooms and crouch down. Rick opens the door and tosses in two more canisters before jumping through the nearby doorway. Bullets reign down again, but it isn’t long till more screaming and coughing takes the place of the gunshots. The group waits a few beats, and then takes charge of the room.  
  
Lupe is the one to find Negan. He’s writhing on the floor, his face covered in snot and tears as he gags and wails in agony. His gun hand is missing a thumb and the rest of it is really fucking mangled. She kicks him once in the crotch. As he folds over, she shoves him all the way into a prone position, binding his feet together, and his hands behind his back. She looks up, and Daryl is hovering there in the smoke, his hands twitching. She nods to him and he drops down, smacking his hands on Negan’s shoulders. He drags him out of the room, like the rest of the Alexandrians do to the remaining Saviors.  
  
It takes some time, but they manage to get the ten living Saviors down the stairwell, not stopping for their coughs and wails. They’re dragged with little care for their well-being, like they’d done to so many before. Knees and ankles knock against the edges of metal stairs. They can’t see anything, they can barely breathe. They’re all tossed down onto a cold cement floor, still coughing and gagging as they try to blink their eyes clear. Their bonds are cut, they’re stripped down to their under shirts and skivvies, and they’re quickly tied back up. While they lay on the floor, water is dumped on their heads over and over and over, until they feel like they’re drowning.  
  
The reckoning has come.


	58. Chapter 58

Negan gets thrashed up and onto his knees, clacking them bare against the cold, hard floor. He sputters and gags. Another bucket of water gets dumped on him. He shakes his head, blinking over and over with the cool rush of relief.  
  
“Don’wanna waste the water, but yer gonna wanna see this, ya piece a shit.”  
  
“Daryl?” Negan coughs hard, right down to rattle in his guts. “Daryl, is that you?” His eyes blink and it’s getting to the point where he can almost see. Once his vision clears, Negan glares around. Rage burns through his agony when he recognizes where he is. He kneels in the middle of the warehouse.   
  
In front of him stands Rick, Carol, Daryl, Maggie, Glenn, and King Ezekiel. Shiva roars next to him. Nearly all of the Saviors scream and fall on their asses in terror.   
  
Negan leans as far back as his knees will let him. “Is that a fucking tiger!?”  
  
King Ezekiel just smiles and gently strokes her head.   
  
“You had a fucking real tiger?” Negan goes agog. “I thought it was a joke!”  
  
“I think we all see who the joke truly is, do we not?” King Ezekiel looks up, raising his hands as if asking for support.  
  
A deep rumble manages to coil itself in Negan’s gut and comes out his mouth as a chuckle. He glares at the King, but movement distracts him and he looks up. His rage bottoms out. The eyes of the remaining people from the Sanctuary glare down at him from above. His workers, his Saviors, and his wives. Alexandrians are littered through them. His eyes settle on Carl, standing there with his arm in a sling and smiling.  
  
Negan smiles back at him, but it is a dark and horrible thing. His eyes trail back to Rick, who has Daryl and Carol waiting behind him. Negan sneers at them too, but they don’t budge. Carol actually looks flagrantly unimpressed. Daryl doesn’t move aside from narrowing his glare, like a beast sizing up its prey. He looks more feral than the tiger.  
  
Negan starts laughing uproariously. He glares out at everyone. “You are all weak and pathetic! I tried to show you what it was to be strong, but you couldn’t fucking hack it! If it wasn’t for me, all of you would be dead!” he roars. His eyes settle in on his wives, and they equally glare back at him. Arat stands in front of them like a shield. She is completely impassive to his rage. It only makes it grow stronger.  
  
Rick steps up in front of him and looks down. “You know, before you came along, we had something better, we were making something good.” His glare turns disapproving. “You’re just a sad little boy in the sandbox, jealous of everyone else’s toys. You’re the one that’s pathetic Negan, and you could never admit it. You just wanted to bluster and fight and fuck. You’re a goddamn child,” Rick snarls.   
  
Rick almost turns away before he laughs, “No, you’re not a child, cause even children survived the end of the world and came out stronger than you.” Rick gestures up to Carl, who smiles and waves at Negan with his unbroken arm and unbroken will. “You’re weak Negan, and you were always going to bring us down.”  
  
Rick turns to the gathered crowd. “We can find something worthwhile in the ashes, but we can’t mourn this moment. This is our opportunity to value change, to value growth and persistence. We cannot value violence as our only tool of survival.” He paces in front of the kneeling Saviors. “It’s time for all of us to work together. Stop stealing from each other. We should own the means of our survival and use that to help others do the same. We can create communities together, societies together. We don’t need anymore goddamn destruction.”   
  
Rick turns back to the Saviors, stripped and kneeling, facing humility and death. “Selfishness is an archetype that deserves to die a smothered death. This type does not contribute. They do not care for people. They don’t work to raise others out of suffering.” Rick centers his glare on Negan and says, “Negan is a war criminal. A war started by him, and ended by us, gathered here together. His reign has come to an end, and we will not tolerate any more like him. We will not condone senseless murder and the reckless acquisition of power.”   
  
“So what, Officer Grimes?” Negan chuckles, coughing again, his voice thick and scratching from the tear gas. “You gonna put me on trial?” He tries to laugh, coughs excessively, and tears stream down his cheeks. But he’s still smiling.  
  
Rick purses his lips and shakes his head, looking up at the people gathered. He says, “No, not a trial exactly.”  
  
Negan snickers, biting his tongue between his teeth. “Oh Rick, you think you can tell good men from the bad? Like you haven’t done bad or worse to protect your own?”  
  
Rick turns back to Negan. “I don’t know if I can be the decider of who lives and dies. I don’t know if I want to be anymore.” He shakes his head, beleaguered. “I’d honestly hate for anymore people to lose their lives at the hands of other humans. We need to save that fight for the dead.”  
  
Negan laughs again. “So who’ll it be then? Who are you shirking that responsibility on? I bet it’s Daryl, he seems like the one you order around, making him do all your dirty work.”  
  
“Actually, that’s more me,” Carol deadpans, raising a hand. Her face curves into the sweet grin of the genteel housewife and her tone is saccharine, “But it’s usually only when I have to get his ass out of trouble.”  
  
Rick chuckles at Carol and shakes his head. “No, Negan. There’s no trial. You’ve shown us all exactly who you are. All of us survived your evidence, and the trail of blood left in the wake of your footsteps. We know Negan.” He stares straight into Negan’s eyes. “We know.”  
  
Negan chills, his body tenses as a snarl forms on his face. “You don’t know shit about me, Rick. Not a thing.” The snarl slowly morphs into a smile.  
  
Rick huffs out an empty laugh. “You’re not wrong. We’ve only known each other a few weeks.” Rick checks over his shoulder fast. He nods, reassuring himself. “We didn’t know at first, but we learned.” He’s got a real smug smile on his face. “We had a good teacher.”  
  
Negan stares at Rick with his face twisted into a confused grimace. “The fuck who?”  
  
“Me…”   
  
Everyone swivels to the sound, and Lupe steps out from behind the wives.   
  
Negan’s eyes pop open wide. He genuinely looks like he’s seen a ghost. Quivering, he gapes at her in pure terror. He stills in a dangerous way before he roars, “You’re alive!?”  
  
“She’s the reason yer on yer knees too,” Daryl snarls with shaking hands. “She thought up all of this.”  
  
“Wow…” Negan slowly folds back his scathing rage. He looks over at her as she walks down the stairs, letting her boots thunk with each step. “Glad I was on your mind, Dita.”  
  
Lupe goes to stand next to Rick, several feet away from the kneeling Negan. Daryl is right at her back and a black dog stands next to him, snarling. Lupe looks down at Negan as she pats her thigh, the dog sidles up next to her and sits, whining.  
  
“So I did see you in Alexandria,” Negan croons. “That’s your dog isn’t it, Dita? I’d sooner bet you’d eat one than believe you’d keep it as a pet.”  
  
“That’s not my name you fucking scumbag,” Lupe bites out.  
  
Negan actually looks offended. His eyes burn into her and the demand leaves his lips disguised, “What is it?”  
  
Lupe snickers. “I lied to you for a reason, dipshit.” She looks unimpressed, but her tone is biting, “I could tell you now, but honestly, fuck you for thinking you deserve to know it at all.”  
  
Negan grins. “God, I love that fire. I missed it!” He winks at her. “I bet I’m still the only one who knows how to stoke it for you just right, ain’t I baby?”  
  
“Asustarlo,” Lupe mumbles to her side. Barbacoa lunges forward a foot or so with a terrifying barking snarl. Slobber drips from her maw as she exposes all her scariest teeth. Negan stutters back and almost falls. Lupe grins and snaps her fingers, the dog looks up at her and wags her tail, tongue lolling out. “Good girl,” Lupe says through a kissy face.  
  
“At least she matches your bitchy personality,” Negan grumbles.   
  
“Man, you are just fucking exhausting. Will you ever shut the fuck up?” Lupe snarls at him, and the dog adds in her own growl. “You did this, you asshole! You! You chose this! You terrorized people. You abused people. You lied and killed and stole! You are a spineless piece of shit who couldn’t pay anyone to like you before the world ended, or after!” Her eyes almost grow sad. “You had to hurt people to get them to care for you. Don’t you understand how fucked up that is? How sad that is? We didn’t want your type in the old world, and we don’t want your type now!”  
  
Lupe grits her teeth, her tone grows cold and disinterested, “Negan, you are worthless in this new world. And we plan on leaving you behind in our dust. We won’t tell stories of this day. We will only weep and remember those that suffered you, survived you. We will outlast you, too.” She stares and shakes her head, disgusted.   
  
“Guess what fuckhead!? Rome has fallen!” Lupe’s bellow echoes through the warehouse. Her chest shakes as she tries to control her breathing. A small smile curves on her quaking lips, but her glare is a death sentence. “You’re so worthless, that I destroyed you without even having to kill you.”  
  
Negan hides his snarl by leaning forward, curling his back. He grits his teeth as a disgusting and writhing insecurity flares. It fuels the long lavishing selfishness inside of him, always ready to burst out. He straightens his arms behind him and raises them up just enough for the others in front of him not to see. In a fast, hard motion he rams his wrists against his lower back and the zip ties snap. He’s on his feet and charging at Lupe in a blink.  
  
Daryl’s bow raises right up and he aims for Negan’s head. His finger pulses on the trigger, but he pauses. Lupe stands there, unmoving, and almost totally expectant. Negan takes a swing with a bloody hand and she dodges it effortlessly. She tells Barbacoa to move. The dog rushes over to Daryl, waiting, wiggling, and whining. Negan reaches for Lupe. She bats his hand away and throws her own punch right after. She and Daryl helped each other practice and stay in fighting shape. He knew well enough even one of her misplaced hits could knock someone out. So the tap she laid on Negan was practically playful.  
  
Lupe starts circling Negan, who sizes her up much the same. He’s got both fists raised, one mangled, one not. “You don’t wanna do this, Dita,” he snarls past his bleeding lips.  
  
“Don’t I?” Her head quirks and her brows bend up as if she’s oblivious to the answer. She looks at him again and frowns, playfully unconvinced. “I’m starting to think you really don’t know me all that well.”  
  
Negan tries to strike again, but she redirects it. He yanks back his elbow and manages to catch her chin. She stutters back a few steps. He turns fast, grabbing at her hair, and manages to get the smallest amount curled in his fist. He grips it and yanks her head to the side. “It’s always the same, Dita. I promise I’ll get you on your knees for me again.”  
  
Lupe jabs him in the ribs, and everyone is pretty sure they hear a crack. Negan stumbles back, grabbing at his side. She smiles under her pitying frown. “Oh Negan, you pathetic paramecium. The only reason you’ve got confidence right now, is cause I’m letting you.”  
  
Negan lunges forward, sloppily wrapping both hands around Lupe’s neck. He’s thrilled by the distinct and familiar terror filling her features. He pulls her closer, snarling in her face, “Tell me the truth,” he breathes her in, “you missed it, didn’t you? The fear? You missed that I was the only one who could make you feel this way.”  
  
Lupe grips his wrists as she wriggles against him. She shakes in his arms, but it is not solely fear. She glares up into his eyes and snarls, “The only reason I feared you, was because I knew if I wanted to survive, I couldn’t fight back.” She jams her fists down on his elbows, reels back, and rams her forehead into his face as hard as she can.   
  
Negan stumbles back, but manages to get a hand on her shoulder. His fingers curl in her jacket, impossibly tight on one side. As he turns back to her, he pulls back his mangled hand into a misshapen fist. There’s a roar on Negan’s bloody lips as he aims a punch with all of his available rage right at her face.  
  
Lupe’s hand flashes out. She cuts off the roar by jabbing a chisel fisted strike right to his throat. There is an audible pop, a few gasps from the gallery, and then silence. Negan crumbles to his knees, holding his throat. He stares up at her, unable to breathe, and in an absolute panic.   
  
Lupe grins. “It’s different now.” Her fist pulls back and she throws her best right hook at him. Negan flies to the ground in a heap. Still gripping his throat, he lands hard, face skidding across the ground. He writhes on the floor, kicking and spitting, holding onto his neck and smearing blood across the ground.  
  
Daryl walks over to Lupe smiling. He wants to curl her face into his hands and never let go, but he stops himself. She quakes as she stands over Negan, holding a rage inside of herself that would out-burn the sun. He understands it fully. Daryl goes to her side and watches him writhe with her. Negan was her scars, and she deserves to see them fade into nothing.  
  
“Is it really done?” she whispers, cheeks twitching through a cold detachment.  
  
Daryl sops up Negan’s suffering as he gags and gasps. But Daryl knows he’s really there to help Lupe weather her own. “Much as it can be.” He points right at Negan, sounding sure as a heart attack, “You did this. You brought him here.” He turns his head to glance at her, catching her face twisting in agony. “You avenged your sister in the best way possible: by saving lives.”  
  
Lupe’s tears finally shake out. Daryl wraps an arm around her and catches her easily enough. He kisses the top of her head and turns her around, away from Negan. He spots a whole satchel of women behind them. They hold each other, grasping hands, sobbing, and waiting. For her.   
  
“You want some time with them?” he asks.  
  
Lupe looks up through her tears and she sees the women. She sobs hard and nods her head about a thousand times. “I — we —,”  
  
“Nah, it’s okay. I get ya. I’ll find ya for the ride back, alright?” he asks.   
  
She nods and then sloppily leans her face into his chest. “I love you,” she mumbles against his skin.  
  
He kisses the top of her head. “I love ya too.” He helps her walk over to the women. They’re practically vibrating with emotions so complex, it feels like it’d build a migraine in Daryl’s head. Arat is there. Her arms wrap around her body so tight, he thinks she might be glued like that. He eyes her carefully. All he can really catch is a complicated anguish and adoration in those eyes she’s got focused on the woman he loves.   
  
Daryl stops in front of Arat with Lupe in his arms. He nods to her. “Take care a her for a while, I got some business, and she wants to see y’all real bad.”  
  
“We will,” Arat insists, sniffling hard. She unfolds her arms and it looks like it hurts with the way she shakes. Lupe walks right into her hold, and all the women curl into one another.  
  
“Thanks,” Daryl says and the word is sharp. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and starts to turn, but stops himself. He faces the women, trying not to stare at their overwhelming grief. “Thank you for caring for her too,” he clears his throat, halting the crack of emotion trying to break its way through, “while she was stuck here. I owe y’all my life for saving hers.” The women all nod and curl around Lupe further. Daryl finds the bravery to turn away.  
  
All of it drifts away when he sees Negan still on the ground. Rick stands watch, waiting for Negan to relax or die or something. Daryl chuckles as he walks over. He kicks Negan hard in the gut once. Rick puts out a hand and Daryl nods at him, assuring Rick he’s in control.   
  
Daryl spits on Negan and snarls, “That’s for making me listen to Limp Bizket, asshole.” He has to ignore Rick at his side, hand slapped over his mouth as his shoulders shake. Daryl’s lip quirks anyway. He leans down and slaps his hands on Negan’s shoulders, and Rick helps him heft the prick up. Rick yanks Negan’s hands away from his throat and puts them behind his back again.  
  
Daryl secures Negan with metal handcuffs. “Found these in yer room. Hope you enjoy’em now.” He pulls at Negan’s hair and forces his neck to bend uncomfortably. Daryl growls, deep in his throat, “I’m gonna have a whole world of fun teaching you the meanin’ of the word humble.”


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok... This is it. Last chapter.

A month rattles by. The Saviors are judged by the communities they harmed, according to their atrocities and participation therein. Some survived judgement. Mostly those who were blackmailed into their position and had no other recourse to achieve desperate needs. They get less severe sentences. They’re not allowed weapons. They have to give a few extra hours of work each day. They go around to other communities for rebuilding measures. Daryl and Lupe round plenty of them up to help redistribute the supplies the Alexandrians took from the outposts. They gave them back to the communities to which they belonged. The Saviors that didn’t survive judgement got a choice, death or imprisonment for life. Most chose a knife to the brain.  
  
Daryl and Lupe wake up to clanking in their kitchen. They don’t move for a little while, adjusting to the idea of being awake. Lupe eventually grumbles and curls over onto Daryl.  
  
Daryl’s sleep riddled voice is so deep, it rumbles through the bed, “Barbacoa’s prolly hungry.”  
  
“She can catch squirrels,” Lupe groans. “It’s too early.”  
  
“Suns up,” Daryl replies, stretching in her arms.  
  
“Exactly. So rude,” she spits.  
  
Daryl chuckles deep in his belly. He winds himself around Lupe real fast, squeezes, kisses her forehead, and let’s go. “Come on, git up. We got shit to do,” he rumbles like a pack of cigarettes has lived in his throat for the past thirty years. “Ain’t been on a hunt in too long, and Joey’s building that smoker out back.”  
  
“Will you two ever shut up about the goddamn smoker?” Lupe growls into her pillow.  
  
“Don’t give me grief,” he snarls as he pulls on some pants, “I stopped talkin’ bout you tryin’ to kill me, didn’t I?”  
  
“When!?” Lupe asks incredulously. “You told someone about me almost shooting you, like last week!”  
  
“Shit, I dunno, last week then,” he mutters. She throws a pillow at him. He chuckles, and climbs on the bed to squeeze at her thigh.  
  
“Nooooooo,” she whines, writhing away from him.  
  
“Git yer ass up outta that bed before I give you somethin’ to whine about,” he jokes, crawling after her and nuzzling his beard along her neck. She squeals against him and he swoops in to kiss her hard. “Come on now. You wanted a society.”  
  
“Oh fuck off,” she grumbles at him through a laugh, and pushes him away.  
  
“I just put my pants on, but I can probably make it quick,” he quips.  
  
“That’s what all the guys say…” Lupe rolls her eyes and starfishes across the bed. She sighs heavy enough to jiggle her chest. “Fine. I’ll get out of bed. I’ll get up. I’ll be right down. I’ll make breakfast.”  
  
“That was like, four straight lies.” Daryl pats her shin as he gets off the bed. “I’ll get some breakfast ready.”  
  
“Beef jerky isn’t a breakfast food!” she shouts after him.  
  
“It is if ya put it in milk.” Daryl shoots back. He smiles at her vivid reaction of pantomiming vomiting as he leaves the room.  
  
Lupe chuckles at herself as she slowly gets up. She’s barely pulling on pants when she hears Daryl downstairs.  
  
“What’re you doing in my house!?”  
  
Lupe is up and out of her room in record time. She skids down the stairs. She doesn’t remember grabbing Alma’s gun, but it’s in her hands. When she stabilizes on the bottom step, gun raised and aimed, she lets out a shaky exhale.  
  
“Don’t you pull a gun on me sugar! I still got my tire iron somewheres,” Dolores grumbles from the stove. She’s got every burner occupied and Lupe thinks the oven is on too.  
  
Lupe scans the area. Daryl stands disgruntled at the island, looking at all of the wondrous ingredients Dolores was folding into a magnificent breakfast. Lupe then finds Arat sitting on her couch, stiff as her mom’s tire iron. A forced, face splitting smile is on her lips. Lupe frowns at her, a single hand raising up in question towards the kitchen.  
  
Arat’s smile stays tense as her eyes flicker back and forth between her mother, Lupe, and Daryl. “I mentioned to my mom,” she looks to Dolores with a slight glare, “one time, that you and I might try seeing each other for a bit.” She looks back at Lupe with a pained sigh. “She tells me she needs to come meet Daryl. Even though I told her several times that I wasn’t dating Daryl, and that you were with Daryl. I told her Daryl and I aren’t dating each other, we just happen to both be dating you.” Arat maintains the stiff smile. “She said it didn’t matter, and she wanted to be able to meet everyone involved.”  
  
“I told her I needs to make sure you have a good man if you gonna get a good woman too,” Dolores says from the kitchen, waving her hand like it’s gospel.  
  
Arat cringed slightly. “She’s trying.”  
  
“She’s tryin’ for a whole damn army,” Daryl mutters at the spread, cinnamon rolls, pancakes, grits, bacon, biscuits and gravy. “Is that country fried steak?”  
  
Dolores looks over her shoulder with a grin. “Sure is, baby. Arat used the last of our meat last night in a stir fry. Hope you don’t mind I used some of your cuts from the fridge.”  
  
“Shit no!” Daryl spits out and yanks out a chair. “Uh, I mean, no ma’am, that’s just fine. I appreciate you making us breakfast.” He cringes, hearing himself sounding like Rick.  
  
“Sugar, you’ve met my daughter, couple a curse worse ain’t gonna kill me.” Dolores chuckles. “Now everyone git your asses up here and have some food. I wanna hear all about this whole set up you’ve got.”  
  
“You just want something juicy for your little gossip group!” Arat hisses at her through a grin.  
  
Dolores arcs a brow, her stare is prim and proper. “That’s a rude assumption,” she intones pointedly.  
  
“Am I right?” Arat narrows her eyes at her mom.  
  
Dolores rolls her eyes. “Well, Marigold is all up on some ex-Savior’s ol’coot of a paw. She wont’ stop gushing about it. I need somethin’ to shut her up.”  
  
Daryl chuckles and Arat sends him a dirty look. He shrugs at her and she rolls her eyes.  
  
“It’s not that exciting, mom,” Arat mutters as she takes a seat at the bar. Lupe stands and helps Dolores dole out food. Daryl starts pouring orange juice for everyone, it’s concentrate and delicious. “Me and Lupe are thinking about dating. She’s also with Daryl, her primary partner. Daryl and I aren’t dating, because I’m still a lesbian that will not personally birth you a grandchild. Daryl and I are trying to be friends, because we aren’t foolish enough to try and think we need to compete for Lupe’s affection. Clear?”  
  
Dolores flashes her a stink face. “Maybe we could say you gave Daryl a black eye, defending Lupe’s honor. That might spice it up.”  
  
Daryl grunts, “I’ve gotten a shiner for much less than spicing up a story.”  
  
Lupe snorts. “How about I punched Daryl, defending Arat’s honor?”  
  
Dolores clapped her hands once and pointed a Lupe, face stretched out in an O of excitement.  
  
“Don’t encourage her!” Arat sputters through a laugh.  
  
Lupe grins wide as she helps Dolores bring out plates. She sets one down for Daryl and Arat, while Dolores sets one down for Lupe and herself. Daryl, Lupe, Arat, and Dolores sit in a semi circle at the curved bar. They companionably chat until most of the food is gone. Dolores waves off cleaning up, pulling off Lupe to gossip. Arat and Daryl take up the task together, cracking jokes and flicking each other with old food.  
  
Arat eventually has to go check in with Denise. Arat was good on runs, but she’s an even better nurse. Her new position has certainly freed up the doctor from her mounds of stress. Daryl contends that Denise has a pretty good grasp on people, and she likes Arat. Since he trusted Denise about Lupe, he thinks he could trust her about Arat too. Daryl wasn’t inconsiderate enough to forget what Arat had done for Lupe in that dark and dismal place. She is special to him just because of that. They’re starting up a friendship and it’s easy going. Even though he’s not attracted to her like that, he can see why Lupe cares for her. That is more important than nearly anything else, so he likes making it work.  
  
Once the kitchen is cleaned up and Lupe is truly awake, they head out into the woods with Barbacoa. They bag a few squirrels and some birds. Lupe thinks one might be a pheasant. She’s not sure, because she’s never actually seen a pheasant, but it is a cool word. Barbacoa was the one who caught it, and Lupe doesn’t think the dog cares much either way.  
  
“You ever wanted kids?” Daryl asks and it’s not really a loaded question. He’s curious about how she feels and figures it’s something that should get discussed. He knows she has an IUD and they still use condoms. But things happen, and he wants to know before their pressured into figuring out the answers.  
  
“Not before. I had Alma. She would probably say that was unfair, but she was enough. I didn’t want much else, you know? I just wanted her to be okay. We’d been through too much together.” Lupe bites her lips to keep back the tears. They still hurt too much to cry. “Now? I don’t know. Things are settling, but bad things still happen. I know you all survived with Judith out on the road. But I think I’d die, just flat out die from anxiety. I’m gonna throw up just thinking about trying to change a diaper while fending off a walker. Oh my god. I’m gonna die.”  
  
Daryl grabs onto her shoulder. He knows the theatrics and humor cover up a real fear. “Yeah, it was probably one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced, just stress-wise.” He shakes his head. “Makes the Saviors seem like nothin.” He shrugs a bit, chewing on his lip in thought. “But we got through it and Judith is damn near perfect. Fact is, surviving with a baby versus the Saviors? Both situations were bad to worst. I survived one and lived another. I feel like I know the reason for the difference.” He glances at Lupe fleetingly, like he always does when he talks about emotions. “I figure if I had you, my family had you, all that time ago… then maybe things could have been different. That’s a weird hope to have, but it’s there. It hurts a little too. I figured you’d understand.”  
  
Lupe nods, sniffling. “Yeah, I do. Shit, do I…” Her head hangs and her shoulders sag after a deep breath. “That’s literally all I thought about when I woke up in Alexandria. What if you and your group found me and Alma instead of the Saviors.” Her face stretches in a palpable agony, and then she bursts into tears.  
  
“We woulda taken care of ya. I’m sorry it ain’t that way. M’so sorry, sugar.” He curls her into his arms and holds her tight until the tears stop. Nature lives, waits, and grieves.  
  
“She would have loved you all. She’d have fit in and done the absolute most. Fuck, I miss her,” Lupe whines as she fists her hands in his vest. The Vest that was found on one of the remaining Saviors. Carol laundered the hell out of it and it came out spic and span. The wings are actually white again. The leather is smooth under Lupe’s fingertips. There’s a distant foggy memory of when the touch of leather made her retch. She shudders into his comfort, so soft, but not so strange anymore.  
  
“I know you do. I don’t know what you believe, but sometimes I feel like this world ain’t so departed from death as we think. More than just the walkers, I think spirits are here too,” he laments, “good and bad.”  
  
She nods into his chest, digging her forehead into his skin. “I love you.”  
  
Daryl kisses the top of her head. “I love ya too.”  
  
“You ever want kids?” Lupe asks, distracted and sad.  
  
Daryl shrugs into the hug. “Not before, I had Merle and he was just too fuckin’ much,” he snorts. “Now, I don’t know. It scares the shit outta me, knowing who I come from more so than what’s out there. Not sure parenting is heritable, but it spooks me all the same.” He looks down at her with a shy grin. “But you know, right time, right person? Who knows…” He keeps that grin as he looks out into the woods.  
  
“Just like fuckin’ in a john, am I right?” Lupe snickers.  
  
Daryl shakes his head with a wide smile and looks back down at her. They press their lips together, kissing gently in the midst of the trees. As they unfurl, they hear a crack. Lupe looks around Daryl. Barbacoa is a few feet away between the bases of two trees, staring up, with her tail wagging. She makes a soft, yelping whine.  
  
“Shh,” a voice whispers.  
  
“I thought dogs couldn’t look up,” the other cut in.  
  
“No I’m pretty sure that’s fake…”  
  
Daryl clears his throat. “Git down,” he grumbles.  
  
A moment later, Carl and Enid come shuffling away from their respective tree trunks, looking slightly dejected and holding several water guns. Barbacoa runs around their feet, wagging her whole body and trying to get their attention. Daryl and Lupe both arc a brow.  
  
“We were gonna spray you and then throw you your weapons,” Enid mutters through tight lips, not looking at either of the adults.  
  
“We haven’t done this in a while, and we were bored. Dad’s still riding the high of Community Love, and I’m gonna punch him if I have to hear him make another speech. He’s like my mom’s old yoga instructor,” Carl complains.  
  
“You’re not supposed to be climbing trees, or the wall for that matter. Your arm’s not healed up,” Lupe chastises, instead of laughing like she wants to.  
  
Carl sniffs. “Bold of you to make such assumptions. We walked right out of the gate like this, and Enid gave me a boost.”  
  
“Yeah, and ya still sucked at it, look at yer arms. They’re all scratched up.” Daryl grins a sinister grin. “Denise is gonna scold you good.”  
  
“Ah shit,” Carl grouses.  
  
Enid chuckles. “I didn’t think of that. You’re on your own in there.”  
  
“Now, go on. We’ll figure out a time to come out, I swear. But we got a deer round here, and I don’t want it scared off,” Daryl says.  
  
Carl and Enid nod. They clasp hands as they walk back towards the gates, water pistols stuck in all their pockets.  
  
Daryl and Lupe grin at their backs and then at each other. They twine their hands together and turn back to the forest. “I think it might be a buck. Grounds not too soft, and the imprints are kinda big and deep.” He points out the path. “You can see some kicked over rocks, bent twigs and shit from where it stepped. Don’t look like it’s running, so hopefully it’s grazing round here.” He looks back at her with a smirk. “Wanna go catch us some deer?”  
  
Lupe grins wide at him and looks back into the forest. “I’ve always wanted to bag a deer…” She inhales deeply and catches the sharp bite of cinnamon and the sweet ease of vanilla on the breeze as it coasts by.  
  
And bag a deer they do. Daryl carries it on his shoulders, even though Lupe had a tarp to drag it. She didn’t think he had anything to prove, but he still might. So she let him be impressive all the way back to Alexandria.  
  
When they arrive, it looks like the other communities have come by to trade. Carl stands with his family. Enid holds Judith as they babble back and forth. Ezekiel leans in and the infant swipes at his beard. Carl smiles, smushed in a side hug between Carol and Michonne. Rick stands by with his hand on the gentle swell of Michonne’s life-growing stomach. Rick says something that has everybody groaning and rolling their eyes. Except for Judith. She thinks her dad is hilarious.  
  
Barbacoa shoots off at the sight of a leather trench coat. She slithers right through Jesus’s legs and he topples onto his ass. Barbacoa is too busy licking stripes up and down his face to notice Shiva stalking over. She pounces, but lands about a foot away from both dog and man, and then boops Barbacoa on the head with her giant paw. The dog’s head pop’s up, tongue lolling, and she leaps off Jesus like he’s a launch pad. The two animals leave the gates for a romp in the wild.  
  
Glenn helps Jesus up. Glenn is glowing. He’s always smiling. Maggie is gorgeously going through pregnancy and she’s the reason Glenn glows. She’s handling things better so far under the care of Dr. Harlan Carson. She’s resting, but also planning. If she does it mostly sitting or laying in bed, then it doesn’t count as working. She chats with Sasha, leaning on Abraham, visiting from their trips with Eugene over to an industrial machine shop. He and Abraham stumbled over it a couple weeks ago and were thinking about building up a community around it. He thought they could all benefit from learning to work with scrap metal, and they might be able to manufacture more bullets.  
  
Other people follow in their leaders, and have different things to trade. Frankie walks around, arm and arm, with a guy from the Hilltop. Her hair is still wildly curly, but it’s up in a bun at the top of her head. Her smile is pure as she laughs and looks up at the guy. She’s there to see Denise for more medicine for her brother’s heart condition. From the Kingdom, Lisa and Amber walked in hand in hand. They carry large totes full of wares in the other. They help their new ‘boss’ make and sell items in the surrounding communities. Tanya, ’the boss,’ follows them with Henry. There was no more distinct sadness in her eyes. She looks strong, especially carrying all those boxes full of her soaps, creams, and oils. Lupe might have squealed thinking about all the luxury still to be found in the apocalypse. Tanya sees Lupe and blows her a big wet kiss. Lupe catches it and shoves it in her mouth, making Tanya giggle snort as she walks away.  
  
Daryl probably would grumble about it, but Rick will likely ask Joey to cook up the deer they brought home. Rick loves a big cook out. He’d invite people to stay over and have a good time. Morgan could help them call back to their communities with the long range radio he worked up. The expanded walls included not just crops, but also a camping area for the traders. They had plans to build more houses, but things were just beginning.  
  
When the deer was served up just right, and Carol pulled out her shit-kickin hard cider, Lupe makes up a plate of food. She kisses Daryl on the head, and he gives her a soured look, tempered by affection. He didn’t always understand the things that she did. He has to trust in her, which is a scary thing to do. Trusting someone means knowing someone. That means knowing and showing yourself. They each have their own scars, but they aren’t just their scars. So he does, Daryl trusts Lupe to hell and back. Daryl will never trust him, though. So like he always did, he’d wait for a little while and then follow her. He won’t eaves drop. He’ll just stay close enough to make sure she’s safe and he’ll be there for her afterwards.  
  
Lupe clears through Rick’s makeshift prison, where all cells were empty except one. It might change later tonight if someone particularly rowdy had to sleep it off, but that was rare. Carol must put something else in her Cider, cause people never seemed to fall into an angry drunk. Just happy or weepy, the kinda fun types. Lupe still hated to drink, but Ezekiel transplanted a few of his cannabis strains to Alexandria, and Lozano was in charge of their care. So Lupe had more than just the relief of a monster behind bars.  
  
“Brought you some food,” she says with basic civility. “People came by to trade, and Rick wanted a cook out.”  
  
“Fuckin’ joyous,” Negan rasps from his twin bed inside his cell. It’s a mediocre bedroom that connects to a bathroom. It’s been stripped pretty bare, but given appropriate basics. The door was replaced with a heavy duty rod iron one, with thick bars and hearty locks. It was put in by Abraham himself, ginger mustache approved.  
  
“Hey, Joey cooked up the meat, and everyone pretty much pot lucked it. This is excellent food.” She scoffs as she pushes the plate through the approved food slot. “Plus you’re lucky Rick won’t let Daryl feed you dog food sandwiches, you asshole.”  
  
Negan sits up slowly, rubbing at his throat. His voice is still not back to normal after the explosions, tear gas, and Lupe breaking the fuck out of something. “Fine. The accommodations are wonderful. Ten out of ten stars. Ya fuckin’ happy?”  
  
“You’re alive, so no,” she bites out with a scathing honesty. “I’d like to feed you to a tiger from the bottom up, but Rick wants to dance on this civility line for a while. I don’t begrudge him that. I’m fuckin’ tired of death, but I’m more tired of you. Eat your fucking food so I can take the dish back and clean it for Carol. I don’t want her to have to touch anything you have.”  
  
Negan takes the plate, but wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “How do you know she hasn’t?”  
  
Lupe rolls her eyes at the innuendo. “Because if you tried to touch her, she would have just killed you. You had no value to her whatsoever. She would have walked the halls drenched in your blood, let Daryl out, and burned the Sanctuary to the ground.” She arcs a brow. “Glad you didn’t try to fuck Carol?”  
  
“You don’t know she would do that. I think she might have liked me a bit.” Negan smiles. He chucks a potato in his mouth and pulverizes it before daring to swallow. He is just back on solids, and so fucking thankful.  
  
“No, Carol and I are very similar. That’s exactly what I would have done if you didn’t leave me alone that night you burned Alma’s corpse,” she snarls.  
  
Negan’s head pops up and all dramatics are gone. Regret shines in his eyes, but it is distant. Lupe doubts it’s even really about her or Alma at all. “Fine. I’m a monster. But so are plenty of the people walking these streets. Present company, especially.”  
  
Lupe sneers. “I don’t feel guilty about a single death at my hands. Not one. They all deserved it one way or another. They proved to me they deserved it before they died. I knew,” she insists. Her head tilts and her tone is a harsh whisper, “Can you honestly say that you never made a mistake killing someone? Even just admitting it to yourself, when you’re alone and it’s quiet? Can you feel regret, Negan? Can you feel anything at all?”  
  
He tries to growl at her, but it hurts. He rubs at his throat, and the place she struck is not far from the scar she left on his neck with a hospital pole. “What if I didn’t? What if regret is pointless and guilt weighs you down? What if this world needs much less feelings and much more action?”  
  
“I’d say you might be dangerously apathetic and need therapy,” Lupe jeers. “Thing is Negan, you don’t have an ounce of self perception. You are just too damn chock full of bullshit, insecurity, and defensiveness.”  
  
“Why does it matter?” Negan hisses. “You’ve got killers in your streets. My killers. Why do they get to walk free, while I rot away in here? What’s guilt and regret, if there’s no forgiveness?”  
  
Lupe scoffs. “Oh, that’s bold of you, so I’ll go ahead and answer.” She leans against the wall, out of reach of his lanky hands through the bars. She didn’t think he’d go for her again after he tried to play badass that one time. She was a blink away from snapping his elbow before Rick stepped in. “I didn’t get to decide if they lived or died. None of them personally affected me. Your men faced down the people they harmed and received judgement for their actions. Some people offered forgiveness, and that is their right. Some people did not offer it, so a different option was given. You already know that one.”  
  
“So who got the final say on me?” Negan grouses.  
  
“No one, really. Everyone wanted you dead, but Rick decided you got to be treated equal as everyone else denied forgiveness,” Lupe spits.  
  
“Oh, so you’re bitter about equality now?” Negan snorts and then grimaces.  
  
Lupe shakes her head, narrowing her eyes into a saddened glare. “Negan, you’re so dense. Those people were all charged with murder or stealing. Even those horrible things can be justified. People can kill in self-defense. People can steal out of self-preservation.” She laughs at him, but it’s tinged with sorrow. “I mean, you were a violent rapist several times over, Negan! There is no justifying rape!” She leans in towards the bars and snarls, “You have cursed your soul to it’s very ether. I’m glad I can at least be here to appreciate you rot.”  
  
Negan thuds his plate onto the table and grips the bars. His teeth are clenched as he snarls at her, “You think you’re safe now, is that it? You think you’re happy, whirling between Daryl and Arat like a boomerang? Like that won’t end poorly? No one likes the scraps, baby doll. You think you got it good? Or is it you just realize you’ll never have enough, now that you don’t have me?”  
  
Lupe bangs the heel of her hand into his knuckles, crushing his fingers against the bars. He hisses and pulls his hands back. She snarls, “Don’t you ever refer to my relationships in such derogatory terms again. You will be respectful, or I will rip your tongue out. Damn Rick to hell, or he’ll let me.”  
  
Then she laughs. "Do you know how many times I orgasm? Like actually orgasm, and not have to fake it?” He just stares at her blank faced. “Sometimes I can't walk the next day. Michonne has taken to making a literal tally of times I have to beg off work. It’s embarrassing!” She grins. “… And awesome. And guess what? Not only can they fuck me right, but I can actually speak to them without wanting to slit their throats. I like them as people. They’re good. Novel, right?”  
  
Lupe stares at him with a deep well of sadness behind her eyes, but shakes it away. “I thought it all might be an act, but you were never good, Negan. Don’t you get that? You’re broken.” She narrows her gaze at him. “I’d prefer to see you dead, but Rick is devoted to this civilization bullshit. I told him I’d still kill rapists if I find them. No questions. He’s agreed to that. So even if you try to get out of here, Negan? I’ll be there, and this time? You’ll stay down.”  
  
“So what, I’ll never get forgiveness cause you’re a bitter hag about fucking me?” he spits.  
  
“Oh?” Lupe spits the word out like it’s poisonous. She exhales with closed eyes and shakes her head. “You mean can people who do bad turn it around and do good? Could awful people earn forgiveness?” Her smile is empty. “Sure. They can. They sure can.” She chuckles at him. ”But the real question you need to ask yourself Negan, is if these people deserve redemption. Are they owed forgiveness and compassion from those they’ve hurt, because of their mere efforts to change?” She grins and says, “Absolutely fucking not.” She leans into the bars and bites out her next words, “Some people don’t deserve to live, Negan. Enjoy being alone, like you fucking deserve.”  
  
Lupe walks out of the prison and sees Daryl smoking a cigarette on the stoop. She’s holding a plate, with the smears of food still dripping off of it. He arcs a brow.  
  
“He wasn’t done with his food, but I wanted to leave,” she says in monotone. Daryl keeps staring. She rolls her eyes. “So… I …dumped the food all over his table and took the plate.”  
  
Daryl huffs a laugh and then offers her a cigarette. She comes over and takes it, but reaches out her hand for him. “He watches us,” she mutters and beckons him.  
  
Daryl looks up at the house Rick converted into the prison. It was meant to be ethical, which he got as someone who spent a lot of time around jails and people frequenting them. But he didn’t think Negan deserved ethical. Rick is adamant though, and Daryl did want to try a better way. He shakes his head, helps Lupe light her cigarette, and takes her hand. They leave him behind.  
  
They walk back over to their house and get inside without incident. Lupe starts disassembling as soon as she gets through the door. Boots slip off. Pants get left on the floor. Over shirt is tossed somewhere. She’s already trying to burrow her way through their mattress. Daryl joins her after he collects her things. She usually did it once she felt better, but he wanted to take care of her, even in small ways.  
  
“Can I sit with ya?” he asks from the doorway.  
  
“Yes,” she replies, muffled through the bedsheets. “This just in: Negan is still shitty and horrible.”  
  
“Coulda told you that.” Daryl slowly undresses down to his boxers. He climbs into his side of the bed and wraps himself up in his blanket. Leaning up against the headboard, he lifts an arm for her. In all her fluffy covers, she squiggles over like a grub and snuggles into him. It takes a bit of rooting, but he kisses the top of her head. “You don’t have to see him. Carol likes going in there and condescending to him with her routine.  Carl sneaks in sometimes and gloats about how great everything is without him. Negan really hates it.”  
  
Lupe grins. “That’s good. They’re such a blessing.” She sighs. “I know I don’t have to see him. I don’t really know why I do it. Except, a really weak part inside that keeps telling me to hope he finally gets it. I just want him to stop.”  
  
Daryl shrugs. “Hope ain’t bad. It ain’t the worst.”  
  
Lupe nuzzles closer, but a frown is stuck on her face. “I don’t want to waste any more time on hope.”  
  
Daryl looks down, concerned. “You don’t think hope got you here?”  
  
Lupe’s cheek twitches in thought and she purses her lips with a huff. “It’s not that I can’t hope, I just mean it’s not all I should invest in.”  
  
“What should you invest in? Wait, what are you investing?” Daryl squints.  
  
“Investing my time and energy.” Lupe wriggles around till she’s released enough from her confines. She turns up her head and presses a kiss under Daryl’s jaw. “I think I should invest it in what I have now…” Lupe smiles and curls against Daryl’s side. He squeezes her tighter and a relief floods her. “…I think I should invest in what I know.”  
  
The scent of vanilla and cinnamon is easy in the air. Daryl’s crossbow leans up against the nightstand. On top of it is a single scented candle found inside an old green truck. It rests next to Alma’s gun. The carved ropes of vines entwined with flowers, shine and gloss in the flickering flame, and finally look complete.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries for eternity* 
> 
> thank you to everyone who came on this ride with me. I know its been intense and a little bumpy, but I hope you ended up loving the characters as much as I did. I have BIG INTENT to write an alternate universe where Alma survives. I'm having some trouble trying to figure out where I want it to happen. I COULD have it happen within the Alexandria time frame....Or I can spice things up a little and have them found earlier... I have some material for the Alexandria time frame...but its not like I can't think of other material (since my brain never stops). Please let me know what you think.
> 
> Thanks again for everyone who commented. For the likes and kudos and follows. I really hope you enjoyed this journey despite some of the rougher parts. Take care!!


	60. OH BOY

NEW AU STORY IS UP >>>> The Walking Nightmare


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